“Why are we going to the creepiest house I’ve ever seen?” Alex asked.

Rows of giant oak trees and high fences hid the house, one of those historic Garden District homes everyone wanted to tour. I had never been inside, but knew a lot of history about it, some of it sketchy. Dion had referred us, which had to mean something positive.

“Dion says she takes care of ghost animals.”

“Cause that’s not creepy?”

“Uh, we have a ghost cat,” I reminded him, “who sometimes gives you nightmares.”

“She’s sensitive to negative energy,” Alex defended our ghost cat. She wasn’t really ours. Alex had invited her to stay with us instead of remaining at an active B&B in Texas, which had really seemed to mess with her peaceful afterlife.

“That’s why we are visiting first,” I said. “We can see how she treats the animals.”

“Or if she’s off her rocker?” Alex offered.

“You’re the one who sees dead people.”

“What if it’s a house full of yokai?”

“Then we leave.”

“That simple?” Alex asked. He’d been working hard on his control and had created a dozen grounding charms that helped keep spirits out, and Alex where he belonged, with me. We’d had a few months without incident, and were getting used to the ghost cat, until Lukas showed up to have a breakdown. I still wasn’t clear on all the details, but he’d flipped out at Alex.

“Why was your brother on boss mode?”

Alex flinched. “I didn’t send Mom a Mother’s Day present.”

“Okay. I assume that happened a lot when you were overseas, too. You can send her something even if it’s a little late,” I offered, thinking it was a simple solution to make everyone happy.

“No,” Alex said.

I looked at him. “You sent my mom a gift.” He’d quilted a delicate pattern of fleur de lis on a piece of faux leather, and I’d made it into a handbag. It looked designer when we’d finished and my mom loved it.

“Your mom doesn’t treat me like I’m an inconvenience,” Alex said. He headed up the walk toward the gate entrance. “My therapist says I’m allowed to set boundaries.”

And that was true, but I also knew him well enough to understand that he felt guilty, and his brother had made it worse. Was he setting a boundary with his mother, or himself? I raced to catch up with him and slid my hand into his. His tension eased immediately. “I just want Precious to be safe.”

Concern for the cat, or his mother?

“We weren’t allowed pets as kids. Mom worked too much and didn’t think we were responsible enough. I found a batch of kittens once. She said she took them to the Humane Society,” Alex said.

“She didn’t?”

“I don’t know. I called to ask about them, but they didn’t know what I was talking about. Maybe she took them to a location far from us? She always worked pretty far away.”

Alex had an enormous heart, and of course he worried about those kittens from decades ago. States away and ages later, it wasn’t likely we’d find them at the ghost cat lady’s house. “Jet loves you.”

“He’s an amazing cat, but I think he likes Lukas more than me.”

I was pretty sure Jet adored Lukas because cats had an uncanny way of gravitating to the individuals who acted the most annoyed with them. Timothy had gifted him to me and found the cat stupidly annoying because Jet would sit inches away and stare at him for hours on end. With Lukas, Jet’s contact was more hands on, but he curled up in Alex’s lap without hesitation and always marked him with his scent when he came in. “Jet loves you and you spoil him rotten.”

Alex sighed. “He loves the new toys. I can’t help that there are so many amazing toys for cats in every shop in the Quarter.” Every time he wandered through the Quarter, he came home with something new for Jet. Often handmade catnip mice, or jingle toys, but Jet had an entire drawer dedicated to his amusement at home. “Maybe Precious needs toys?”

“How do we find a cat toy for a ghost cat?”

“I don’t know, maybe the cat lady will know?”

“I’ve heard she has more than cats, but one battle at a time, right? Let’s see this menagerie.” We found the gate and entered the code they had given us to unlock it, sliding inside and closing it behind us. “I hope there aren’t ghost attack dogs or anything,” I said in a half joke, hoping to lighten the mood.

He scanned the yard with a slow gaze. Since it was the middle of a weekday everything was still, at least to my eyes. “Nothing,” he said. “Not even ghost dog poop.”

“Well, that’s good to know. I’d hate to step in ecto-poo.”

A smile tugged at Alex’s lips, and I squeezed his hand as we made our way up to the door. He rang the bell and we waited. He swayed a little, self-comfort that I was learning a lot about lately called stimming. We hadn’t talked about his new diagnosis yet. He’d come home from the therapist, sank down into my arms and cried. He was on a waitlist for an actual evaluation, but his therapist suspected and gave him a dozen books to read. And each one he had tabbed with a bunch of little colored stickies, passages highlighted, page after page of self-awareness rising.

We heard movement from inside. “Ready for the paranormal Dr. Doolittle?” I asked.

“Probably better than seeing random dead people,” he said.

The door opened and while I had expected it to be an older woman, the woman at the door couldn’t have been much older than Alex, early thirties? She wore a sweater and one of those floaty long skirts like Sky often did, and her curvy figure would have made Sky jealous. Her hair was long and pale brown but pulled back in a thick ponytail. She seemed ordinary enough, but so did Alex and I most days.

“Ms. Houghton?” I asked. “I’m Micah Richards, and this is my boyfriend, Alex Caine.”

She studied us, but nodded, stepping back to let us inside. We followed her into the entry. The house was vast and every bit as grand on the inside as it was on the outside. “Dion said you have a spirit in need of a home,” she said. She shut the door behind us.

“We are trying to find a less volatile place for her,” I said. Then realized it sounded like we were in some sort of abusive relationship. “I mean, she’s very reactive. If anyone is upset, she changes. And sometimes gives Alex nightmares.”

“How long has she been gone?” she asked.

“Twenty years? I don’t remember. She was a friend’s cat. I never met her in real life,” I said.

“We accidentally invited her to come live with us after finding her at a hotel,” Alex added. “The hotel’s energy did really strange things to her.”

“The older ones cling to the negative for energy,” Ms. Houghton said.

“Does that mean she’ll fade without us?” Alex asked, sounding really worried. “I didn’t invite her to come home with us, only to make her vanish completely. She’s a sweet thing.”

When she wasn’t cursing him with nightmares.

“They all fade eventually,” she said. She sighed and motioned for us to follow. “Let me show you to the cat room. And you can call me Maggie.”

“Thanks, Maggie,” I said as I followed, Alex close behind.

“How well can you see them?” she asked as she led us through a hall and into a ballroom sort of space filled with cat towers, wall shelves and large stuffed furniture, like chairs, sofas, and even two bean bags. The room looked like a crazy cat lady’s space, a bit cluttered and very eclectic.

Alex’s mouth dropped open. To me, the room looked empty, but I could feel a tickle of something, like we were being watched. I squeezed his hand. He glanced at me with enormously wide eyes. “There are a lot. Like dozens,” he said in awe.

I looked around and tried to determine if anything was moving on its own, or if there were misplaced shadows, but other than the edge of awareness that someone or something was looking at me, I couldn’t tell.

“There are close to thirty cats, which is why they have the ballroom. They stay longer than a lot of the other animals. Though there’s a horse in the backyard that was my great grandmother’s…” Maggie said. She flinched as if realizing what she just said. “I mean…”

Alex reached out and pet something sitting on the top of the couch nearby. “They seem happy. Do they all get along?”

“Sometimes a stray shows up, and there’s a bit of fur up, but it only lasts a few days.”

“This would be the best cat café ever,” Alex said. “No one could claim they are allergic.” His gaze met mine. “You can’t see them at all? Sense them? You can see Precious.”

Not always. Sometimes she popped out of nowhere, other times Alex could see her and I couldn’t. I didn’t know why that was. Was she showing herself only to him? Or was he simply more in tune to the supernatural, no matter their strength? “It feels like I’m being watched, but I don’t see any cats,” I admitted.

“There’s a lot of trust involved,” Maggie said. “Those who aren’t as sensitive sometimes feel like something touches them, or even a ghost sensation of one making biscuits if they stay long enough. Some find the energy of the room too much, like they know the cats are there, and because they can’t see them, it makes them agitated. The cats are avoidant, mostly. The dogs not as much.”

“How many dogs do you have?” Alex asked, as though the woman were a kennel rather than a ghost pet rescue. He crouched down and nuzzled something like he often did to Jet. “This little guy is super lovey.”

“Orange males are pretty needy,” Maggie said. “I have seven dogs right now. They never stay as long as cats.”

“What about the whole ‘rainbow bridge’ thing? Is that all a lie to make us feel better when they pass?” Alex asked. I knew he was worried about Jet. We’d had a scare with him last month when he’d gotten into string. Four days of waiting with him at the vet to see if he’d pass it or need surgery had racked up medical bills, and Alex’s anxiety. I tried to keep calm over the event, as the vet assured us Jet was young and healthy, and with care he had a good chance of survival, but I’d also spent those four days cat proofing anything with thread and blaming myself. Only when Jet was home safe, having passed the string, and ravenously hungry from being on a liquid diet, did I break down and cry into his dark rosettes.

“I’ve seen many vanish right away. Why do some stay? They can’t really tell me,” Maggie said. “I find the strays often fade faster than pets. All perceptions of death are from the living. Rainbow bridge, probably not, but it’s not like they can tell me.”

“Can we visit her?” Alex asked. “If we bring her here? I’m not even sure how we’ll get her here, but I don’t want her to think we abandoned her.”

“You’re welcome to visit anytime. They don’t get a lot of attention from others.” She clapped her hands and turned. “I have an instruction guide I typed up. It works to help get most to move over. Let me grab a copy and you can read it over before deciding.” She left, and I stared at the giant space, thinking I could easily fit four of my lofts into half this space. Ghost cats lived in luxury.

“She’s very organized,” Alex said. He took a seat on the sofa.

“Can I sit, or is there a cat?” I asked him.

He patted the cushion beside him. “All clear.”

I carefully made my way around and sat down, fearing something would jump out or magically appear. My comfort level with seeing the supernatural wasn’t as honed as I would like. How would I handle seeing screaming faces and distorted spirits that used to be human, like Alex did? I’d probably need medication to turn it off, or have a heart attack. I relaxed into Alex’s side, trusting him to tell me if I should worry about some ghost cat strangeness, and let my gaze focus out the window. A dozen bird feeders and squirrel boxes decorated the trees and area outside the giant windows. More for the cats to watch, probably. It seemed like a nice place.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I finally asked, after Alex went silent. I left the it open for interpretation. He could choose to talk about the cats, his mother, or even his therapist’s diagnosis, whatever he needed.

“I love you,” Alex said.

It always felt amazing when he spoke those words out loud, even if sometimes he wore them like armor as he was about to go do something stupid. “I love you, too. We aren’t bringing more ghost cats home.”

He chuckled. “It’s like wonderland here. I hope Precious likes it.”

At least he was feeling better about moving her. I knew his guilt was eating at him for a dozen things and taking care of Precious was only part of it. “What else?” I asked as I closed my eyes. The feeling of being watched didn’t go away but shifted to something that felt less wary and more like curiosity. Something touched my thigh, and at first, I thought it was Alex, but realized he was on my other side. I breathed deep and kept myself calm, waiting for the sensation to come again, or Alex to say something.

“You really love me?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Even when you know I’m not normal?”

“Normal is overrated. You’re normal for you. And I like your normal. It’s not like it’s a secret. Did you know that statistically speaking, because you and Lukas are twins, he’s probably autistic too?” I asked, voicing the thing that made his palms sweaty and heart race.

“He’s probably in the twenty-four percent that’s not,” Alex said. Of course, he’d have looked it up, much as I had. “Maybe that’s why my parents like him more?”

“Didn’t that book you were reading say something about gifted kids and how they seemed less work and were more often ignored, which leads to trauma?” I’d been reading too, finding similarities I’d brought up with my therapist.

“I guess. I would have thought they’d have caught it when we were kids,” Alex said.

Something curled itself on my lap. I didn’t look at it, or move more than to breathe, afraid to scare it away. “You said your mom never took you to the doctor. Which is odd, since she’s a nurse.”

He shrugged, and I knew he was working through those feelings with his therapist. “I guess I could send her a gift card or something. She always complains about the lack of thought with that sort of thing. I don’t want to make her a bag. She wouldn’t appreciate it unless it had a brand name on it.”

“You don’t have to give her anything. When was the last time she sent you a gift?” I asked.

“But gifts don’t have to be given to receive,” Alex said.

“No. You also don’t owe her anything.”

He flinched. I knew he’d heard those words before, as we sometimes attended each other’s therapy sessions. He had the mentality that she’d given him life, inconvenienced herself to care for him for eighteen years, and now he owed her everything, even when she treated him like crap. PTSD could be a real bitch, especially the stuff generated by childhood trauma.

I looked down and found a calico cat curled up in my lap. An orange boy with a lion-like mane was wrapped around Alex’s shoulders. Another tuxedo cat sat like a loaf of bread beside him, nose pressed to his thigh like it breathed him in. “You are the ghost cat whisperer,” I said.

He smiled. “You can see them?”

“Only the few close to us. The rest of the room still looks bare.”

Maggie returned and handed us a printed packet. Her gaze trailed over us where we sat, pausing on each of the cats I saw draping over us, and behind us, to where more of them probably sat. I hoped if Jet passed and stayed, he’d have a peaceful place like this.

“I try to keep it to just the facts,” Maggie offered. “No philosophy about why they are here or for how long. Only how to help them move locations. I don’t know about people ghosts, but I’ve heard it’s easier to move animals than people. People get tied to locations. Animals’ instinct is for safety first.”

“That makes sense,” Alex said, as he accepted the packet and flipped through it. “People are complicated, the living or the dead.”

“Truth,” Maggie said.

Alex wiggled to get the cats to move. Two of them vanished, and the one on my lap did too. He got up, and I followed, letting him decide, as he was more connected to our ghost cat than I was. “We’ll look over all of this and call with questions, if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Maggie agreed.

“Do you need money or anything for her care?”

She smiled. “It’s not like they need food. Care for the living ones you find and I’ll monitor the ones not ready to move on yet. The universe sends cats when we need an extra bit of moody love.”

I thought about when I’d gotten Jet, and she wasn’t wrong.

“Did the universe send me Precious, then? Should I keep her?” Alex asked.

“That is for you to decide. And her. She’ll move here if she’s ready.”

“You mean sometimes they don’t move even if we try to get them to?” I asked.

“Yes,” Maggie agreed. “It happens, though rare. Some cats are strongly connected to their people. But you said this one moved once already; she’s probably just looking for a quiet place to rest.”

Alex nodded. “Thank you. We’ll call soon.”