A Spectral City Collection

By Leanna Renee Hieber

Follow the love story between a ghost and an exorcist in this omnibus edition of the Spirit Suitor trilogy. 

Maggie Hathorn is the spirit of a socialite who is determined to redeem the sins of her past by spending her afterlife solving crimes in turn-of-the-century Manhattan. Reverend Coronado is a young exorcist whose life is turned upside down the moment he is first possessed by Maggie’s vivacious spirit. Navigating a budding romance that crosses the boundaries between life and death is challenging enough in its own right. But when a string of crimes suggest that demonic forces are allying themselves to human bigotry and threatening the beautifully diverse communities of New York City, Maggie and Coronado will need to use their union to bring the spirit and human worlds together in a fight against evil. Solving murders and banishing demons together makes for an unusual courtship, but nothing could be more important to this spirit and her suitor than protecting the city they both cherish.

Revisit familiar characters from Leanna Renee Hieber’s Spectral City trilogy with this new companion series that proves it’s never too late to fall in love!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Sep 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094450070

Leanna Renee Hieber

Raised in rural Ohio and obsessed with the Victorian Era, Leanna’s life goal is to be a ”gateway drug to 19th century literature.” An actress, playwright and award winning author, she lives in New York City and is a devotee of ghost stories and Goth clubs. Visit www.leannareneeheiber.com

Book preview

PART I

THE SPIRIT SUITOR

Copyright © 2022 by Leanna Renee Hieber

All rights reserved

ISBN: 9781094441931

First e-book edition: August 2022

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PROLOGUE

MANHATTAN, 1899, LATE AUTUMN

If I possess someone, the spirit thought, I’ll finally make progress on this damnable case.

This was the logic that propelled Maggie Hathorn’s bold, irrepressible ghost up Fifth Avenue as she peeked into fine mansions and considered her options. Every now and then someone peeked out a window back, starting and recoiling as her luminous greyscale form wafted by. At this, Maggie threw her head back in a delighted laugh. Startling the living never grew tiresome.

Shouldn’t I practice, though, Maggie thought, before diving in? The far steadier voice of her darling employer Eve Whitby – who had given Maggie such purpose in haunting the city – sounded in her mind with a caution; if Maggie was too hasty and something were to go wrong, the case could be ruined. She had to know what she was doing if she was about to manipulate a living body. That was something that needed practicing.

Struck by inspiration, she thought about an old family friend – Reverend Blessing, the exorcist. She headed towards an Upper West Side apartment she knew well. Aunt Evelyn and Blessing were friends from the early days of their paranormal gifts. He would know what to do.

Up and over Central Park she flew, a luminous bird on an updraft of spectral wind.

The brownstone Reverend Blessing called home was equidistant from several Episcopal, Protestant churches where he served as a supply pastor. He additionally covered the whole of Manhattan as one of the most reliable visiting pastors to shut-ins, hospital patients, asylum dwellers and more. She dove down past surrounding spires with care, enjoying the details of rooftops and the scents of dinners in the air.

Wafting through the wooden front door, Maggie sent the reverend’s beloved rescue animals skittering in surprise. No one barked, but three nervous greyhounds stared at her in suspicion, poking their heads out from behind worn wooden furniture.

The reverend, dressed in one of his well-kept black clerical suits and white collar, was sitting by a fire that cast a halo-like glow about him. His brown skin and aging, distinguished features lit warmly, his dark eyes glimmered in the firelight. The late autumn chill as the century neared its close was creeping into the house in subtle drafts. He sat with a cup of spiced cider, humming a gospel hymn. The shift of his eyes towards the corner of the room where Maggie floated was indication that he was aware some spirit was in his midst, but he made no move to greet her further. That he tended to refrain from taking off his clerical uniform until it was time for night dress meant Maggie should still consider him at work.

Looking at his aging body, neatly trimmed white hair and serene face, Maggie did not wish to disturb him. He had been through many troubles already and she feared doing anything that might affect or strain his physical health; he was hardly the spry spiritual warrior he used to be.

Footsteps on the floor above reminded Maggie that Reverend Blessing wasn’t the only exorcist in the house. There was Reverend Coronado, the younger protégé of Blessing. She sent herself up through the wooden floorboards, the smooth oak grazing her senses gently as she passed between floors and found herself in the comfortable, well-loved library of the residence, her face jutting out from corner bookshelves. She stared at a beautiful, black-haired, olive-skinned man in the same ensemble of black suit and white clerical collar. He was much younger and, as had been often noted among the Ghost Precinct staff, distressingly handsome.

Her movement at the bookshelf caught the gentleman’s eye. Maggie was used to this; being seen out of the corner of an eye. Only the truly gifted could stare head on at a spirit and maintain the sight of them for any consistent length of time without their ghostly forms flickering from view. As he turned in her direction, his eyes seemed to latch onto her then lose her, then find and lose her again, as if she were coming in and out of focus. But he saw her well enough to proceed. He was the first to break the silence between them.

Hello, spirit, are you here for some purpose? he asked gently.

Yes, Maggie replied. Can you hear me speak well enough? Not all who see spirits can hear them.

Faintly, he replied. I know you, don’t I? Aren’t you Eve Whitby’s leading Ghost Precinct operative?

Exactly so. Maggie Hathorn at your service, Reverend Coronado.

How may I be of service to you, Miss Hathorn? Why do you come calling upon a man of the cloth at this late hour?

Forgive my untimely intrusion into your private residence, but I am in a significant hurry to make progress on our current case involving the Prenze family. But before I take a bold step I’ve never taken, I need to practice.

The reverend tilted his head in clear curiosity. Maggie bobbed in the air excitedly as she announced: I need to possess someone.

Coronado couldn’t help but sputter a small, surprised laugh. Maggie explained in a torrent, I’ve never done so. It occurred to me the safest thing to do to practice the act of taking over a living body might be to make my first attempt with someone whose duty it is to extricate a spirit. You know, in case something goes wrong.

Unorthodox … but I suppose I see your point.

It would only be for a moment, until I could determine whether or not I could prompt a body to move. I am hoping to free someone from abuse in our current Ghost Precinct case, and I can only do so if I can have an effect on the body.

I see. The reverend thought a moment, as if weighing the risks. Well, you did come to an exorcist, and I suppose we would be remiss to pass up the chance to experience the potential of different entities firsthand. It would be … interesting research. All right … how do we begin?

Maggie smiled sheepishly, floating closer. Goodness, his beauty was a point of absolute distraction. I’m not entirely sure, but I believe I’ll just … move close and …

She didn’t mean to go face-first against him but she did. She shifted her lips against his –a shockingly pleasant sensation that drew a swift intake of breath out of the reverend, a sensual sound – and then Maggie fell forward.

There was a tumble, a tangle, a wrestling sensation that affected every inch of Maggie’s body. It was disconcerting yet invigorating. The reverend’s warm welcome – she didn’t know how else to think of it – was how she’d imagined holding one’s true love might feel. A frisson of exquisite delight overtook her form and the reverend’s body echoed the delighted shudder.

She hoped he didn’t hear or somehow know she was thinking such bold thoughts and feeling quite so intimate. She heard a low, resonant chuckle, but it came to her as if from underwater. Oh no… Was he hearing her thoughts? Did he know how immediately overwhelmed by him she had become?

Yes, Miss Hathorn. You might want to hold your thoughts closer if you don’t want me to hear them, know them or feel them … the reverend said aloud, with distinct amusement.

Maggie sputtered with embarrassment. She felt a rush of panic flood the traces of her body. What echo of skin she still carried grew hot with his body’s warmth against hers. She tried to get her senses to come around but all she saw was darkness. She felt like she had been enveloped in soft winding sheets, a pressure spread over every inch of her. Moving was difficult and there was no light to guide her.

Turn around, he guided aloud. I think you’re facing the back of me.

Are you in pain? she asked meekly. Even moving her mouth felt blocked, like she was speaking under layers of fabric. That it was a body enfolding her and not textiles tried her senses.

Not at all, he said with a soft, delicious intonation. Though I can’t say I’ve ever experienced anything like this.

Nor I… She tried turning, as if she were shifting under blankets to lie another way. There was friction in the turning; a warm and liquid brush across her whole body, an overwhelming sensation she’d never experienced. Light, suddenly. There.

She closed and opened her eyes, feeling at least the memory of blinking. Finally she could see, albeit from a bit further away, as if through slightly hazy glass, the library in which they’d begun.

She tried lifting a hand. It was a sluggish movement, but the reverend’s body responded.

I can feel your impulses, Coronado said, his tone a gamesome rumble in her ears. Just so you’re aware.

Maggie tamped down on any impulse that would have been construed as untoward and thanked him. She wasn’t sure she should do any more experimenting. She might give away too much, might cross an emotional and physical point of no return.

As if to reassure her that she wasn’t alone in that capacity, their shared physical bond allowed Maggie to pick up on something quite distinct: his piqued interest – no … his desire. It delighted and terrified her equally.

For all Maggie’s bravado, she felt her dark past excluded her from such regard – especially from someone so beautiful, with a heart so bright and kind as now beat next to hers. She cleared her throat, causing the reverend a little cough.

All right, Maggie began with a crisp, businesslike tone. Now that I understand a bit how to maneuver in this capacity, I’ll be on my way. Let me just …

She tried to float forward like she would in any space that she haunted. In her ghostly form, nothing blocked her. But she did not move forward. Coronado only rocked on his feet, losing balance. Maggie tried harder to push forward. This sent the poor man to his knees.

Sorry! Just … a moment …

Coronado! What on earth, are you all right? Reverend Blessing exclaimed, rushing forward from the door as his colleague collapsed on the floor.

We’re fine! Maggie and Coronado chorused.

"We…? Who is we…?" Blessing eyed him warily. Maggie imagined that any exorcist beholding a single form who was using a plural – not royal – we was cause for professional concern.

Well … It’s an … experiment. Coronado explained Maggie’s situation, resulting in the present moment of trying to navigate shared control of a body.

I’m sorry, Reverend Blessing. I didn’t mean to be any trouble. Her cadence coming through, via Coronado’s voice, surprised everyone.

Well, let’s get her out, then. You had your fun, Miss Hathorn. Misguided science or no, this isn’t a wise state for either of you to be in … Blessing scolded and began the first few phrases of the exorcism rite. Maggie had heard it before.

Don’t banish her! Coronado exclaimed. This only further furrowed Blessing’s brow. We don’t know that it won’t wipe her from the living world, and … she’s in the middle of a case with Eve Whitby’s Ghost Precinct, and … I don’t … well, it wouldn’t be fair—

He stopped suddenly, and Maggie’s heart raced at the knowledge that he, like she, had found an immediate and unexpected kinship, a bond, something wonderful and wanted, as if they’d missed one another their whole lives – but she couldn’t go on thinking this. She had to stay on task.

Grumbling, Blessing exited the room, calling over his shoulder. I’m calling in help. I don’t like this one bit.

I know he must be concerned, Coronado admitted, "if he’s going to use the telephone. He hates that contraption. Shall we sit?"

Coronado sat on a nearby settee and the two existed, as if in an embrace, for another long, silent moment. Maggie could sense that he, like she, was afraid of thinking any thought because it would be thought out loud, shared between them in a palpable psychic bond. There was a halting sensation as he was about to start a sentence and then stopped, clearly unsure what to say or do next. She also could feel his heart racing, as the echo of her own did for the first time since she could remember. It wasn’t that he was afraid, it was that he was overwhelmed. There was so much to say and he had no idea where to begin.

Can you … show me more about yourself? I’d … love to know more, Maggie confessed.

Coronado obliged, giving her glimpses of his life, allowing a set of memories to pass between them as if she were watching a display of moving photographs. She saw a curious, earnest, thoughtful child split between extended family in New York City and his parents in Mexico City, where he often read books on a balcony not far from the bustling, central square of El Zocalo and its great Metropolitan Cathedral. Memories of that old church’s bells tolling reverberated in Maggie’s heart. His life was filled with love but also dark tidings. She saw visions of demons and struggles that he would fight in his future, premonitions of a life leading him to his calling and to Reverend Blessing’s side.

And there was one memory that she couldn’t identify as his or hers. An image of a ghostly figure stood surrounded by light, but the memory shifted to the more mundane, a favorite garden in his aunt’s home on Long Island where he liked to watch birds and insects flitting among the leaves.

And you? he queried.

"I don’t think you want to see the history of a spoiled brat who was self-absorbed and often, frankly, cruel. I’d rather you not see that childish side of me and I certainly don’t want you to see how I died. I try not to think of it."

Understood, but I won’t judge—

I judge me enough for both of us. I’ll show you moments of my favorite hauntings instead.

Maggie shared fond glimpses: her watching over Eve Whitby as a child, then still as a young adult, becoming her spectral auntie and dearest friend. Aiding Aunt Evelyn in discerning messages from the spirit world. Helping to recruit other wandering, purposeful souls for Eve’s Ghost Precinct of spectral aid. Occasionally looking in on Eve’s mother and father, wonderful souls who she’d nearly gotten killed – and who she gave her life to save. She let Coronado know that much, just no details of that death. She shared her most recent tumult: a swallowing darkness that made her feel like she’d experienced a second death, then the joy of regaining consciousness again. She allowed him to see the souls who were important to her and all that gave her purpose in her spectral rounds.

Maggie realized they could have spent hours swapping memories, as if trading a book back and forth to read pages. Time seemed to slow and the warmth and ease of being sat together, calmly and comfortably, eventually lying back on the settee, looking up at the ceiling as if it were limitless sky, could have lasted forever. But it wasn’t long before the help Blessing had called for arrived.

Eve Whitby and her cohort, a dashing man Maggie recognized as Detective Jacob Horowitz, stood puzzled at the library threshold.

The moment Eve entered, the detective behind her, Maggie jumped up, the reverend lurching forward at her urging. Eve, darling! He moved to Eve and embraced her, kissing one cheek, then the other, and grasping her shoulders. Maggie was overjoyed by the connection. Oh, my dear, it feels so amazing to be able to touch you after all this time!

At this, Detective Horowitz coughed. Loudly. Eve’s face went an immediate scarlet.

Oh, Lord, Reverend Blessing uttered, passing a hand over his face at the threshold.

Reverend Coronado, Eve began hesitantly, stepping back. I’m not sure you’re feeling very well. Is there a reason you’re being so familiar and enthusiastic with me?

Oh! Maggie realized, delightedly. I have ignited jealousy! It isn’t me who is touching Eve but this gorgeous reverend! The moment of tension showcased just how much Detective Horowitz cared about Eve and Eve’s awkwardness proved that care was requited. Maggie didn’t mind if her host knew she deemed him gorgeous; it was a known fact within the Ghost Precinct that Coronado was distressingly attractive.

Don’t you recognize me, your best friend? Maggie pouted at Eve jokingly. Though the reverend’s voice was still his own, his delivery was hardly his usual cadence; it was transformed into Maggie’s recognizable, bouncing lilt.

Eve narrowed her eyes and took a step forward, leaning in. "Maggie?! What are you doing?"

Practicing! Maggie exclaimed, exasperated. "We need to get into Albert Prenze’s home for the present case, and I can’t go in as a ghost, because of his technology, and none of you can go in as you’re compromised, so we need a willing target!"

And Coronado was willing? Eve’s pitch rose. "To be possessed? Maggie, you know we have protocols! Why didn’t you ask me? This is a bold step – to say the least."

What safer way to conduct a test possession than by starting out possessing an exorcist? Maggie presented her case via Coronado’s amiable tone.

The ghost has a point, Horowitz stated, staring between the two of them, his discomfort at Coronado’s closeness to Eve still quite evident. Maggie’s playful nature found this delightful.

Maggie. Listen to me, Eve insisted. What if we can’t get you out?

What part of ‘exorcist’ are you missing here, my dear?! Maggie and Coronado were equally appalled at the lack of faith. Do you doubt these fine men’s talents?

Eve sighed. "Of course I don’t doubt their talents, but what if, during exorcism, you’re sent somewhere, Heaven, the Corridors, the refuge of Sanctuary, and you have a hard time coming back? We’ve no protocol for this, no precedent …"

I’ll peel away from him just as I tumbled into him, Maggie stated with forced confidence.

What if you were to call her out like you would in a séance? Blessing suggested, still standing in the doorway. I’ll lend a few prayers for extrication.

Maggie wrestled inside the lovely man, hoping to prove she didn’t need any help in extricating herself. Wrenching from within caused a reflexive, nearly epileptic response, and looking down, she could see her faint silvery hand overlaid on his shuddering one.

You don’t have to be quite so dramatic about it, Miss Hathorn, Coronado said quietly through gritted teeth, fighting to regain himself amid this takeover.

Maggie relaxed her thoughts and, looking in a small mirror by the bookshelves, she watched as a shimmering silver began to separate from his handsome face. But suddenly she thought of something, causing Coronado’s arms to shoot out.

Eve, before we part, will you do me a favor? Maggie bid Coronado ask. Eve raised her brow, and before she could answer, he threw his arms around her, speaking softly into her ear. I’ve missed embraces most of all. I wanted to feel this again. Especially after I nearly died twice, it made me pine even more keenly for my tactile days. He drew back, cupped her face and leaned in.

Eve stiffened, wide-eyed. Detective Horowitz darted forward with a hissing intake of breath, clearly ready to extricate her. But Maggie ensured that the priest merely placed a chaste, soft kiss on Eve’s head and loosed a small laugh.

Thank you. In that moment, it wasn’t clear who was speaking; it could have been either Maggie or Coronado. Coronado stepped back. Horowitz did too, but his brow remained furrowed. Only when Coronado took an additional step back did Horowitz release the breath he’d held.

Promise you’ll tell me before you do something so bold again, Maggie? Eve pleaded. I don’t mean to doubt you, but I have to be responsible for all my operatives, and whoever is inadvertently dragged into this too, like the reverends. And you can’t use Coronado to spy on our target anyway! The reverends were both there when all of us were knocked cold by our enemy, so you’re going to have to find someone else less suspicious.

Of course, Maggie scoffed. This was merely practice for the next feat.

And what’s—who’s that? Eve cried. I know you think not telling me your plans will strengthen dramatic tension, but that’s not how a police department works, dear!

Maggie did rather enjoy pairing her existence with a more-than-healthy dose of theatricality.

I’ll be right with you.… Maggie promised. She tried to move forward, but it was like she was bound up in cloth again. There was another shake and shudder that worked its way through Coronado’s body, as if he’d touched a live electrical wire.

Actually, Coronado laughed nervously, perhaps his own unnerved intonation mixed with Maggie’s, I do think I need a little help here. Maggie added emphatically: Don’t exorcise me so thoroughly that you banish me, mind you, but perhaps a little shove from the Book of Common Prayer. I don’t wish to tear at this poor man; I rather like him.

At this, a choked laugh escaped Coronado’s mouth. Shaking his head, his own cadence returned. "I can hear you, Maggie, and I confess … I rather like you too, unconventional as your new friendship may be. Let me be sitting down this time, as when you took me the first time, I was nearly bowled over."

Eve grinned. "Maggie is rather a force of nature. And thank you, Reverend, for being so wonderful about this. I’m so sorry for this inconvenience."

Don’t be, he said. It’s… one of the most incredible experiences of my life. A quiet moment followed in which no one knew what to say.

Blessing stepped forward to address Horowitz. Detective, all my life I have been shoulder to shoulder alongside Jewish brethren, fighting for our mutual justice and freedoms. All traditions are welcome in matters of care and well-being. If you would like to take part, you are welcome to offer any berakhot, any prayer or blessing you feel would suit this … admittedly unique situation.

The detective nodded solemnly. Closing his eyes and holding out his hands, Reverend Blessing began a psalm. Once he had invoked peace and quietude on behalf of all souls, he withdrew a small metal dispenser, a vial that allowed a small spritz of holy water to anoint the surroundings. Water splashed gently on Coronado’s face and he closed his eyes, serene.

I will not utter a renunciation, Blessing continued in his clear, commanding tone, as this presence with us is no demon, no evil, but a family friend. Merciful God, guide Margaret Hathorn out from the body of our colleague Reverend Coronado so that she may return to us in her ethereal light, and our brother here regain himself. Lord, Adonai Eloheinu, hear our prayer.

Hear our prayer, Eve echoed.

Detective Horowitz added a congregational response, Baruch Adonai ham’vorach l’olam va-ed.

Come back, Maggie, Eve chorused gently, reaching out her hand.

Maggie reached back, moving Coronado’s arm in doing so, but hesitated. There was a twinge of discomfort and a moan of strain, as if he was trying to wrest free something heavy. Maggie forced her luminous hand to separate out, one above the other.

That’s it, my dear, Eve coaxed. Reverend Coronado was still as Maggie’s cold, transparent palm hovered over Eve’s and the rest of her followed, breaking free in an ethereal extrication that caused the reverend to shake violently. Maggie too shuddered with the sudden cold shock of being made only of air again.

Blessing stepped forward to steady his colleague. He walked Coronado back to the bench and helped him sit; Coronado slumped against the wall. Moisture beaded his brow. Blessing withdrew a handkerchief from his coat