Dearly Departed

by Katie May

  “Annoying isn’t the half of it,” I add, speaking of Jake. “He’s rude, pompous, and—”

  “A total asshole?” she finishes for me.

  “Or a whole ass,” I counter. She smirks at me, her eyes shining bright. “Definitely a whole ass. Don’t trust him, Hadley. That Angel is bad news.”

  “Oh, I won’t. Preston, my Reaper mentor, all but told me Jake is the devil himself. He creeps me out. Always staring at me when he thinks I’m not looking.”

  My blood surges. If Jake dares to even lay a finger on my—on Hadley, then he’ll suffer my wrath.

  “Just ignore him, Hadley. He’s more trouble than he’s worth,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.

  Realizing I’m still clutching her hand, I drop it and stalk towards the stairs leading up from underground. I hear her heels clicking behind me on the stone floor.

  Good. She’s following me.

  We exit the stairwell through a normal looking classroom door and walk through the hallways of the Afterworld Academy. She picks up speed and sidles up beside me, her smaller legs working twice as hard to keep up.

  She’s so tiny and cute. I just want to wrap her up in a little ball and hold her tightly, protect her, ensure she’s always safe.

  But I can’t.

  Won’t.

  The war inside my mind rages when it comes to Hadley. On Earth, she was someone my dark Demon heart was drawn to. Creatures of the night frequented her house, especially when her cancer took a turn for the worse. It was my job to fight them off, protect her, and I’m finding it hard to push that role from my mind.

  “Through here.” I lead her out of the exit and stop to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Night has fallen, and nothing but the moon and stars light our path.

  “What are we doing out here?” she asks.

  “Patrolling.” I try to keep my voice as nonchalant as possible. As if this was a normal thing at the Academy. I don’t want to worry her about the Darkness and other things that lurk in the shadowy corners of the Afterlife. “Demons are charged with the safety of the students and the staff. Since our vision is exceptional in the dark, we patrol at night.”

  “So… others patrol during the day?” she questions.

  “Mmhmm,” I respond. “Usually the Angels. The staff like those of us who can fly to patrol since we can cover more ground quickly.”

  She’s quiet for a moment, but I know those wheels are spinning inside her pretty head. “What could you possibly need to protect dead people from? I mean… does it have anything to do with that dead soul?”

  My gut sinks.

  I grab her arm and force her to return my gaze. “How do you know about that?” I demand, my voice accusatory.

  Her face pales, and she audibly gulps.

  “I saw it. I can never unsee it. It was horrible, Braxton. Like watching a nightmare play out in front of my waking eyes. Every time I try to sleep, blink, enjoy a quiet moment, I replay the image of her over and over again.” She rubs at her temples. “I can’t shake it.”

  Fuck.

  “Does anyone else know you saw it?”

  “Oh yeah. My other two mentors, Auston and Preston, were with me when I found her. Then Administer dude had a special meeting, and I was the star of the show,” she says sarcastically. “That Malcom guy? He was there too.”

  Interesting.

  I find myself at a loss for words, unsure if I want to coddle her, protect her from the danger she can’t even fathom, or toughen her up and prepare her for what’s to come. Seeing how shaken she is, I decide to go with my protective instincts.

  “Don’t get too worked up, okay? I’m sure it’s just an accident,” I lie. She frowns at me like she doesn’t believe me, but I can’t help wanting to shield her from anymore hurt. She suffered enough on the human plane.

  We round a corner and head down the path which weaves through the trees, taking us back to the dormitories. A brisk wind rustles the leaves above our heads as we walk in silence.

  I’m trying to think of something to say, something that won’t make me sound like a fucking asshole, when a twig snapping grabs my attention. I swirl about, tuck her behind me, and summon my sword all in one motion.

  “Braxton, what—”

  “Shh. Something is out there. Stay behind me.”

  I hold out my palm and summon my fire. Hadley gasps, her hot breath fanning my neck, when the ball of flames appears in my hand.

  “Cool trick.”

  “Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”

  “Yes. But I never said I’d listen.”

  I huff and head into the trees, veering off the worn path. I hold my hand up high and spot something moving in the trees.

  “What is that?” Hadley wonders from behind me.

  “Not sure. But I want to take a closer look. Come on.”

  With my fire illuminating the way, we make our way through the dense forest until we come upon a sight that freezes the blood in my veins.

  Hadley shrieks when the swaying object comes into view.

  There, indeed, is something moving through the trees.

  Actually, it’s swinging from a tall branch secured by a rope fixed tightly around its neck, blood seeping from its eyes, ears, and mouth…

  Another dead soul, killed just like the one I saw in the cryo drawer in the morgue...

  What the fuck?

  Chapter 18

  Hadley

  The body swings like a pendulum from the tree. Brown slacks on muscular legs, white pressed shirt, and standard school jacket with the crest over the breast.

  The man’s name was Dennis. A first year, like me, and a man I saw from time to time. I never talked to him before, but he sat behind me in more than one class. Quiet and subdued, his eyes were vibrant with life despite his timid nature. His laugh was hearty, the full belly kind that made you want to join in.

  And now, he’s dead. Nothing but a body dangling precariously from a tree branch.

  I stare at his unblemished face. His open eyes, still trickling blood from the corners, are sightlessly staring down at me with an unnerving intensity. No cracks mar his skin.

  He died differently than the girl I saw in the river.

  I hear the whispers from the professors, the hushed murmurs in quiet corridors when they think we’re not listening.

  Two murderers.

  Two different MOs.

  Fear clamps my heart, refusing to release it. My breath saws in and out.

  “Hadley.”

  The voice claws at my skin, piercing nails I feel down to my very soul. I turn, wide-eyed, only to see Dennis staring at me. Watching me. His lips move even as his body continues to swing, the rope a vise around his throat.

  “Hadley.”

  The voice is not the one I remember. It’s lower, raspier, and sounds like thousands of voices overlapping. Thousands of dead souls crying for me, screaming at me, demanding something of me I can’t entirely comprehend.

  “Hadley.”

  I spin wildly at the second, unfamiliar voice. The girl’s jaw is gaping as fissures sever her skin like cracked glass. Her burnt eye sockets are fixed on me, and I feel like I’m looking into black abysses. Falling head over feet into a black hole, tumbling like one would in a tidal wave. Drowning, but the pain is almost bittersweet.

  Her jaw cracks open even farther until it’s hanging by bloody tendons. Her voice is a distorted growl.

  “Hadley.”

  “Hadley.”

  “Hadley!”

  I wake up with a start, disoriented and unable to remember where I am. The first thing I process is artificial moonlight streaming through my fluttering blinds. In the bed next to mine, Aggie’s chest rises and falls steadily.

  I’m in my room in the Academy.

  It has been a week since I found that second body. A week since the nightmares began again, plaguing my every sleeping moment. It’s times like this when I wish sleep wasn’t necessary for the dead. It doesn’t make a lick of sense.
We don't need to eat or use the bathroom, yet we need to sleep? Is it some sort of cruel joke? Do the Fates just want us to have nightmares?

  The second thing I note is a familiar figure huddling over me, his eyes wide with concern and a frown pulling at his plush lips.

  Karston.

  His blond hair is disheveled as if he has run his hands through it one too many times. He’s dressed in a white shirt with blue and black striped pajama bottoms.

  What the fuck is he doing in my room?

  “I heard you crying,” he explains hoarsely. “Through the walls. I couldn’t leave you.”

  I lick my suddenly dry lips, and his eyes lower to capture that diminutive movement.

  “I see them.” I don’t know why I’m admitting it to him, a stranger, but once the first words leave, I can’t stop myself. They spill from my mouth as tears fill my eyes. “I close my eyes, and I see them. Ali and Dennis. The souls who died. What happened to them? Why did they die so differently? Are there two murderers? Why am I dreaming of them? They won’t go away, Karston. I can’t make them go away. I close my eyes, and they’re there. Waiting for me. Always fucking waiting for me. I’m so fucking scared right now, do you get that? Do you understand? I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t eat. I just see them, and they haunt me.”

  I close my eyes, and tears catch on my eyelashes. The pain is raw, a wound that hasn’t quite scabbed over. I pick at the skin, pluck at it, and blood wells.

  I can’t fucking stop.

  Karston bites his lower lip before something akin to resolve crosses his face.

  “Go back to sleep. I’ll stay and keep the nightmares away.”

  “I don’t know you,” I whisper, but I’m exhausted. For weeks now, I have been fighting this battle alone. I just want someone to hold the weight, if only for a moment. If only so I can sleep. The weight of the world, the burden of their deaths, is so heavy, and my shoulders are weak. If Karston is offering, who am I to say no?

  “Go to sleep.” He presses his lips to my forehead and climbs in bed behind me, arms tightening almost imperceptibly around me.

  “And you’ll keep the nightmares away?” I murmur drowsily, turning towards him.

  “I’ll try,” he promises. His lips touch my scalp again, and I nestle further against him, placing my face into the crook of his neck. Inhaling deeply, I catch a waft of something sweet, something distinctly Karston.

  For the first time in weeks, I sleep through the night. When I wake up, I’m alone in bed, the phantom remnants of heat warming my body from the inside out.

  I almost believe I imagined the entire interaction.

  Almost.

  But my skin still tingles where Karston held me through the night. A mysterious Ghost I hardly know. I can’t deny I felt innately safe and protected in his arms, as if I was meant to be there.

  As if I knew him.

  But that’s ridiculous.

  Right?

  Chapter 19

  Karston

  Holding Hadley while she nuzzled into my chest as close as humanly—or souly—possible will go down as the best night I’ve had since becoming a student at the Academy. She felt so tiny in my arms, nestled in all snug. I buried my face in her sandy blonde hair and inhaled her strawberry shampoo. That might be my new favorite smell.

  She seemed to deflate in my arms, like she allowed me to help her carry the burden of her nightmares of the tragic and horrifying things she’d seen in the past few weeks. I couldn’t blame her broken mind for weaving terrifying tales even while she slept. Hell, if Ghosts were able to dream, I’m sure the same thing would be happening to me.

  “Karston, are you listening?” Mrs. Myle shouts with her hands on her hips. I want to reply with obviously I wasn’t, but think better of it. “This is important. You are about to embark on the hunt to find your DD. Pay attention!”

  I grumble something inaudible in response.

  “Yeah, Karston, pay attention,” Frederick sneers from his seat next to me, an evil smirk plastered on his stupid face. I turn my gaze to him, scowling as I do.

  “Worried I’ll grab the good ones from under your nose, eh, Freddy?” I taunt.

  “Not at all. We all know who the best Ghost in our class is. And it certainly isn’t you.”

  I shrug. He has a point. But he doesn’t need to know that.

  “Care to make a wager on that?” I ask, wanting to see how far I can push him. “Winner gets bragging rights for best in class. What do you say, Freddy?”

  “I’m in. I’ll plow you over like that Mack truck that killed you and your dumbass brothers.”

  My face grows hot with anger. Who the fuck does he think he is, talking about the way I died like that? That’s a forbidden zone. Only lowlifes would sink to that level.

  “Wager?” I grumble out, trying to school my features so he doesn’t realize he got to me.

  “Well. I have my eye on a certain DD I want to mentor. Whoever gets to her first, wins,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “Easy,” I retort, running my fingers through my hair. “Who’s the DD?”

  “Oh. Just a random girl.” He picks at his fingernails. “You probably haven't even noticed her. Sandy blonde hair. Bright blue eyes.” He raises his gaze to me. Bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. He must have spied on Hadley and I during one of our interactions.

  “Doesn’t ring a bell,” I say nonchalantly. “Does she have a name? Or does she go by sandy blonde hair, blue-eyed girl?”

  “Really? You sure you haven't seen her? Because I could have sworn you slept in her bed last night…” he trails off, cupping his chin in feigned thought.

  “Deal,” I call before I have a chance to think about what I’ve said. Basically, I’m offering my sweet Hadley up as bait for my own battle. If she ever finds out…

  “Deal,” Frederick agrees, offering his hand. I shake it once.

  The wager has been made.

  “Okay class,” Mrs. Myle calls, grabbing our attention once more. “We will head out to the ghost town. The DDs are already there, hiding. Find the one you wish to mentor and claim them by drawing them out of hiding. Remember, they have the right to refuse you if they do not want you. If that happens, abandon that DD and search for a new one until you and your DD are happy with the match or until there is no one left.”

  We all push our chairs back and prepare to dematerialize before taking ourselves down to Earth.

  “Finders keepers,” Freddy jeers at me as he disappears before my eyes.

  I will my change to go quicker, determined not to let that asshole beat me to my own girl.

  Yeah, I consider her mine already, even though she doesn’t know it yet.

  In my mind’s eye, I visualize the ghost town I was brought to during my first year. As the classroom around me fades, the ghost town appears, growing tall out of the sandy desert.

  It’s nighttime, same as the last time I was here. The buildings have decayed more, the weather having its way with the old wooden structures, and the bell tower on the old church has toppled over, its copper bell creepily hanging out of the ruins like a lolling tongue.

  The sign from the general store is strewn across the dirt road, and the flag waving in the wind has ripped in several more sections, looking more like a nineties fringed jacket than the old red, white, and blue.

  Ghosts from my class materialize around me as we wait not so patiently for Mrs. Myle to give us the signal.

  She raises her arm. “You have one hour. Go!” she shouts, dropping her arm.

  The chase is on.

  I think back on what I know of Hadley. If I were her, where would I hide? Right away, I cross off the church and the bank. I don’t think either of those places would call to her free spirit. The general store is out since she’d have no interest in the mundane. Which leaves the old hotel, the saloon, and the brothel. I don’t know why, but I picture Hadley as a very sexual creature. Maybe that's just my hope. But regardless, I pick the brothel.

&
nbsp; Once I see Frederick head into the hotel, I make my move. Dematerializing into nothingness, I head down the empty dirt road and slip inside. The front room is tiny, with tattered maroon floral furniture, and ornately carved wooden accents. Old kerosene lamps still hang off the walls, the stench of their fuel lingering in the air along with cigarettes and brandy.

  A decaying grand piano rests in the center, its keys half missing with a coat of dust on top at least an inch thick. The old bar also looks unchanged. Glasses still litter the bar top like someone had just been here, enjoying a glass of spirits only a moment before.

  Evidence of the space’s use are clear everywhere. Black and white photographs hang on the walls behind glass frames, each depicting women adorned in minimal clothing and posed in lewd positions. Every picture has a name under it. Alda, Susan, Trixie… I’m sure at one point this was a way for the men of that era to choose their prize for the evening. Now, their pale faces only serve to haunt the space as much as us Ghosts do.

  A desk is perched in the far corner near the spiraling staircase. Behind it are rows of hooks, each containing a single key with a number on it, I assume correlating to which room it belongs. But I don’t need any keys. I’m a Ghost. I can travel wherever the hell I want.

  Abandoning the lounge area, I head upstairs and float into the first room, allowing myself to be visible to the DDs. A bed overflowing with pillows and purple drawn drapes are all that exists in here.

  I float through the wall to the next room. Again, I find this one empty, except for a billiard table and several cues. The next room is at least a bit more interesting. Different ensembles hang from velvet hangers. I spot a ballerina’s tutu, a sheriff's uniform, and a doctor’s lab coat. Seems whoever got this room wanted to play dress up.

  Kinky.

  Definitely a room I’d like to bring Hadley to. I can just imagine her toned form in that little pink dress, dancing, a show for my eyes only. As she moved she would peel off her dress from her perfect body until I could watch every muscle bend and flex without a barrier between them and my eyes.