Birthday Cake Waffle: Book 8 in the Diner of the Dead Series Read online

  * * *

  “No, stop,” Frank shouted as he bolted for the door of the gas station. Balton was raising the knife above his head.

  Suddenly, the clerk stopped dead in his tracks, and to Frank’s surprise, blood began to ooze from his chest.

  “What?” Frank cried.

  Balton fell to his knees and toppled to the floor just as Frank pushed the glass door open. “Sonja,” he shouted.

  Blinking, she looked up at her boyfriend as if just coming out of a deep sleep. “F-Frank? Is that you?”

  Leaning down, he embraced her tightly. “Thank goodness. You’re okay.”

  “W-what happened?” She muttered.

  Letting go of her, he glanced down at the body on the floor. “I don’t know. He just stopped in his tracks and fell. It was almost as if,” he stuttered a little, “almost as if some invisible force stopped him.”

  CHAPTER 20

  * * *

  Pulling the ice cream waffle cake from the fridge, Frank set it on the counter and placed the candles through the frosting and slowly lit them one by one. Then, once they were all lit, he carefully carried the cake over to the table, singing Happy Birthday to You as he set it down in front of his girlfriend.

  As he finished the last refrain, she blew out the candles.

  Frank clapped ceremoniously.

  “All right, you goofball,” Sonja teased. “Take a seat and let’s dish this up.”

  It was Sunday afternoon, officially Sonja’s birthday, and they were finally in a spot to relax and enjoy their weekend trip.

  They had, unfortunately, spent most of Saturday dealing with the police—trying to explain everything that had happened. Ultimately, the police had decided, for the time being, that Sonja had blacked out during the attack and had managed to fend him off.

  However, for some reason, they couldn’t find the knife she had used to defend herself from her attacker.

  They said they would call her with any follow-up questions.

  Meanwhile, it came to the sheriff of Winter Park to inform Don Connelly about his wife’s death. For once, Sonja was glad Frank didn’t have to do that part of the job.

  For a long while, Sonja had been confused about how a ghostly knife could penetrate a living person, but she was beginning to piece things together. Based on what she knew of the necklace so far, and what Belinda had told her, she assumed that somehow, by her essence being in the spirit world, she might have unknowingly offered some sort of extra energy or power to Harriet to allow her to affect the world of the living, if only for the briefest second.

  Sometimes, her powers—in addition to her lack of knowledge of how to control them—frightened Sonja.

  A quiet purr caught her attention as the cat, who had tried to warn her to stay away from the gas station, rubbed up against (and through) her leg. She smiled down at the animal apologetically. Luckily, Sonja was slowly coming to terms with accepting her supernatural powers. If she had them, she would need to hone them and use them for the benefit of those around her. “Don’t worry,” she thought at the cat, “I’ll listen to you from now on.”

  She would need to give him a name soon, she decided.

  Cutting into the cake and serving Frank a piece, Sonja got to wondering. “Frank?”

  “Yeah?” He stabbed a fork into the fluffy waffle and took a bite, clearly savoring the taste.

  “Where did you get my necklace?”

  Finishing chewing his bite, he answered. “From a little antique shop next to the library. Why?” He shoveled another bite into his mouth.

  Raising an eyebrow, Sonja tried to think. “There isn’t an antique shop next to the library.”

  “There is now,” Frank responded, pointing with his fork. “It’s on the corner to the right of the building.”

  Sonja tried to think of any building there, but only remembered an empty dirt lot being next door. Pulling out her phone, she texted Belinda.

  “Is there an antique shop next to the library where Main Street and First cross?” she sent.

  Slipping her phone back into her pocket, she cut herself a piece of the cake and began to eat. She spent a moment watching Frank, admiring him, being so grateful for him. She didn’t know what she would do without him in her life.

  He had saved her on countless occasions and had helped bring her down to earth or correct her when she was getting just a little too crazy, yet he was so kind and open at the same time. Someday, she felt she could eventually tell him her secret. Someday, he might actually believe her.

  “Frank?” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” he smiled.

  “I think I’m ready.”

  At this, Frank raised one eyebrow. “Ready for what?”

  “I,” she paused, almost stopping herself altogether. “I love you, Frank Thompson,” she managed to get out. “I really do.”

  At this, Frank got a little misty eyed. “You mean it?”

  She nodded. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Reaching across the table, he grasped her hand and squeezed it. “I love you, too.”

  They sat like that for a minute, enjoying just being with one another, and letting the ice cream waffle cake start to melt.

  Then Sonja’s phone buzzed.

  Reaching into her pocket, she pulled it out and read Belinda’s text. “No. There’s nothing on the corner,” she said.

  “Are you sure?” Sonja texted back.

  “Positive. I’m looking out the library window right now at an empty lot. Why?”

  Sonja couldn’t help but feel that this necklace somehow came from the same person who had sent her the cursed stone during Christmas. What did they want from her? And why?

  Trying to forget about it, she was determined to enjoy the rest of the weekend—and her birthday—with Frank.