Chapter 8: Flight of Fumbles

In a whirlwind, Savannah and I are on a flight to Miami Beach.

She scribbles our plan in her Moleskine:

1. Hit Miami Beach and grill local contacts for clues.

2. Track down Mariah Bell’s body and the sorcerer behind it.

3. Bring Mariah and Savannah’s snake spirit home.

I do a last-minute check of my backpack. With a fat budget and a dangerous enemy, I packed everything: my altar kit, five pounds of top-shelf ritual powder, and antique talisman paper.

But horror strikes—I brought the wrong bag. No wooden sword, no iron seal—just a fruit knife and a yogurt cup. In my rush, I made a rookie mistake.

No sword, no seal—I’m basically a ghost hunter with a Swiss Army knife. What a joke.

Thirty thousand feet up, I silently scream.

Savannah tries to cheer me up. “Don’t worry—you’ve got a ghost sidekick, right?”

I jump. “How’d you know?”

She leans in, smirking, “Two months ago at the press event, your ghost spooked Director Carter—I saw the whole thing.”

I slap a hand over her mouth, panicked.

Savannah laughs, “Chill, I won’t spill. As long as your ghost’s with you, who cares about Miami sorcery?”

I hesitate, then admit, “The ghost’s already moved on.”

Savannah nearly shrieks, “Are you nuts? That was a five-star ghost! I only trusted you because of her!”

The plane hums in awkward silence. We’re flying into a boss fight in flip-flops, facing enemies with cheat codes and gold armor.

Savannah shoots me a look. “Aren’t you supposed to be good at divination? How’d you mess this up? Didn’t you check before you left?”

I nod. “The reading said: chase fortune in danger, lick honey off a blade, nine deaths, one life, dead and alive, worse than death…”

Savannah just stares. “And you still got on the plane?”

I look out the window, defeated. “I thought it was just a script job. Working for clients is always risky—but I didn’t know this time it’d be real-life ghostbusting!”