“No,” Sam said, gripping me by the shoulders and steering me into the pub. “Don’t even. Can’t have you moping, thinking about him when there’s cause for celebration.”
“But I can’t help it. I miss him.” I sighed. “Besides, it’s almost Valentine’s Day.”
“That useless, shallow, piss-poor excuse for a holiday?” Sam made an unflattering phlegmy noise and hopped over the bar. He selected a bottle of bourbon, top shelf, and helped himself to two glasses. I kept expecting one of the bartenders to notice and toss him out on his ass, but of course that never happened.
I leaned against the bar and took the glass that he handed me. “And you call me cynical.”
He downed half his drink and rested his forearms on the bar top. “It’s a stupid wankfest manufactured by the greeting card companies.”
“But if you strip away the material stuff and all the other bullcrap, it’s about remembering to show the one you love how much you care for them.” I drained my drink and set the empty glass in front of him. Whiskey went down much smoother than when I was alive. There was a calming warmth to it, and it slid right down my throat. It felt nostalgic, which was kind of funny, considering I wasn’t much of a drinker during my last life.
Sam made a gagging motion with his index finger. “Come on, you don’t need a cheesy holiday to do that.”
“Haven’t you ever been in love before?”
He stared at me for a moment, before taking both of our glasses and refilling them. I caught a hint of something interrupting his usual demeanor, but it was gone so fast I wondered if I imagined it. “I’ve yet to have a woman complain about my…abilities to satisfy her.”
“I’m not talking about women you’ve paid to have sex with you. I’m talking about love.” The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. What the heck? Sam and I had been trading barbs and needling each other since we’d met—we were a regular smack talking comedy duo. That was the foundation of our relationship. Hell, he was the one who went right to the sexual reference, rather than answer my question seriously. Except for some reason guilt nagged at me, like I’d taken the joke too far.
“You’re hilarious.” It was his usual dry, sarcastic tone, though something had definitely changed. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what; I just sensed that it had. He leaned closer, his dark eyes focused on me. He didn’t seem particularly upset, but his attention suddenly felt overwhelming—suffocating, even—and I fought the urge to shrink away from him. “Just love to argue, don’t you?” His voice had grown softer, almost distant. Maybe I really had hurt him.
“And you just love to avoid answering my questions.” Without a conscious effort to do so, I’d mirrored his tone so it was more of a quiet observation than an accusation. It dawned on me, with sudden clarity, that maybe we didn’t just react to each other or sense the other’s feelings. Instead, our souls were so tangled together emotions overlapped. Almost like his feelings could be my own. My God, we were in way deeper than I’d ever imagined. To help combat my uneasiness with this realization, I took a sip of my drink and turned away from him. Time for distraction.
There were couples everywhere in this place. Kissing. Groping each other. Carrying on flirty conversations. Not long ago, that had been me and Jack. We’d been so consumed by each other, riots could’ve been happening around us and we wouldn’t have noticed. Even after six months together we’d been like that. Now, watching these other couples, it made me feel sad and hollow. I missed him so much.
At once, a warm, heavy feeling tugged at my mind, like a switch had flipped, replacing the negative vibes with calm and relaxation. Had the whiskey actually affected me? Or had Sam done something? I peered at him from the corners of my eyes, but his attention was fixed on a spinning bottle cap, not me. He hated when I got worked up thinking about Jack, so maybe he’d somehow taken control of my emotions. I watched him for a moment longer, but he continued to ignore me. Maybe it had been my imagination.
I scanned the room, my vision finally resting on a table in the far corner. A young man sat by himself, sullen, his head propped in his hand as he watched the crowd. People danced around him, bumped into his chair—even elbowed him in the back of the head once or twice—but he didn’t react.
Sam still leaned across the bar, his arms folded and resting on the counter in front of him. He tapped my arm. “I didn’t think it was possible, but there’s someone here who’s having even more fun than you.”
I scowled at him, even though I knew he was teasing. “Yeah, so I wonder what his excuse is for staying?”
“Perhaps he can’t leave.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense, why wouldn’t he be able to leave? The door’s right there.” I made a sweeping gesture toward the entrance, but Sam just chuckled.
“Remember what I told you about being observant? Things being out of place, or not fitting together quite right? Take a closer look at our party animal.” Talk about a one-eighty. Whatever had been bothering Sam just moments ago, seemed to have vanished altogether as he slid back into teacher mode.
I squinted. The lighting was poor, and the man was far from me, but I could see his lips moving. “He’s talking to himself. So not only is he miserable, he’s nuts. No wonder people are ignoring him.”
Sam moved closer to me. “You’re still overlooking the most important thing.”
“Enlighten me,” I said, irritated. I wasn’t in the mood for guessing games.
“You really can’t see it? He’s obviously dead.”
I shivered, trying to ignore Sam’s close proximity to my personal space and instead studied the man. Dead? He did look a little different from the other people.
“Can’t you see his aura?” Sam pointed. “It’s a fair bit grayer than the others.”
“Yeah, but…how come…?”
“You mean why is he still here? He’s a lost soul. One that chose not to cross over. We can’t force them to go. You, of all people, have firsthand experience in that.”
I folded my arms. Yeah, not one of my brighter moments, either. After I died, I’d wanted to stay and look after Jack. That had somehow morphed into revenge and conning Sam to put my soul back in my body. I shivered at the thought. Not pretty. Hindsight, you know?
“Indeed.” I felt Sam watching me again, so I focused on the lost soul. Why was he even here? When I’d refused to leave with the reaper, there’d been a reason keeping me on Earth. I’d had a goal in mind. This guy was clearly staying in a place he didn’t enjoy being and not doing anything to fix it.
“Who knows why the deceased do the things they do.” Sam pulled another bottle of whiskey from the shelf, examined it with a raised brow, and tucked it inside his coat.
“Really?” This was supposed to be my role model. I knew nobody could see us, but still. Helping ourselves to drinks seemed bad enough, let alone a whole bottle. What a night on the town.
“You going to tell on me?” He laughed. It wasn’t worth arguing. “This trip wasn’t all bad, now was it? Got to be at least a little adventurous if we’re going to work together.”
“Let’s get out of here,” I said, but he was right. Coming in here hadn’t been terrible. I just wasn’t in the mood to party.
He might not have been the sentimental type, but maybe Sam’s heart had been in the right place by bringing me. Almost like this was his way of trying to do something for me, to bring me out of this funk I’d been in since I lost Jack. To make me feel better. Which, when you considered his behavior and some of the things that flew out of his mouth, seemed contradictory at best. My mentor was tough to figure out. If he was still listening to my thoughts, though, he gave no indication.
“All right then.” Without argument, Sam hopped back over the bar.
We walked toward the door, and as we neared Ghost Guy, I noticed I was able to zero in on what he was saying.
“You had one chance…one chance, and you blew it. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Shouldn’t have trusted those no good… I just
can’t do anything right.” He was muttering under his breath, the words flying out so fast and almost blending together to the point they should have sounded like gibberish. Yet they didn’t. They had a remarkable clarity, almost like the rest of the room had receded into the background.
“You’re learning to filter, that’s why,” Sam told me. “Our kind are programmed to be in tune with the deceased.”
Like finding to a radio station? I wondered if it could be that simple.
“If you want to think of it that way, I suppose that’s the best analogy.” Sam rested a hand on my shoulder. “Although, there are drawbacks, particularly when you’re not on duty.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What I mean, is if I was you, I wouldn’t make eye contact.”
No sooner had the words left Sam’s lips than the ghost man froze mid-sentence. He turned, eyes wide, jaw slack, then vanished in a cloud of vapory mist. The next thing I knew, he was standing in front of me, hunched over so his nose was inches from mine. I flinched and backed away.
“You can see me!” he exclaimed. Up close he looked like a 1980s castoff wearing a green-and-blue striped alligator polo with the collar turned up and sporting a shiny blond haircut that couldn’t figure out if it wanted to be a mullet or grow wings. Apparently hairspray had been his best friend when he was alive, too, because the hair hardly moved. “Finally, somebody who can see me!”
“Dude.” I swatted him away. “Back off!” It was about that time that I got the bigger picture, a zoom-out view of our new acquaintance: his scrawny, pasty appearance as well as his distinct lack of pants. Or rather, he had them—they were just bunched in a wrinkled puddle around his ankles.
“Oh, sorry. It’s just, it’s been so long. Like the longest night ever. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get out of here, so I can just go home and put it all behind me. It’s so embarrassing, I just want this night to end.”
Sam groaned. “I told you not to look at him. But talking to him, that was just daft.” He tugged on the sleeve of my shirt. “Come on, pet. Let’s slip off while he’s got himself distracted, hey?”
We hadn’t gone more than a couple steps before Ghost Guy was circling us, waving both his arms. “Hey guys, don’t go! I mean really. Please, don’t leave me here.”
He latched onto my arm. “I just want to go home,” he moaned.
“Let go of me.” I yanked my arm, trying to get away from him, but he stuck to me. Sam snickered, and I shot him a nasty look. “A little help here?”
“I’ve no interest in getting involved with that,” he said.
“Sam!” I growled.
He laughed. “Funny thing about the lost, is they’re actually rather weak. Even a noob like you should be able to overpower him. After all, you’re a reaper now.”
More angry at Sam’s flippant attitude toward my situation than the twitching asshat who was now clinging to my arm with both hands, I summoned all the strength I had and shoved. Hard. Ghost Guy did a backwards somersault and landed on his ass, his legs splayed apart, and his eyes wide with something that resembled adoration.
“Are you checking out his junk? Cause if you’re that desperate for a man, at least find one with working parts. I’d be happy to show you m—”
I elbowed him in the chest before he could finish his sentence, and he backpedaled a couple steps, snickering.
“Are you electric? I feel like I just grabbed hold of a live wire. What did you do to me?” Ghost Guy started to get up. “Wait, I know—you must be a goddess! Or a fairy godmother sent here to help me. That’s it, right? You knew I was having a terrible night, and you knew the things they did to me, and you just wanted to help me put it right. I’m right, aren’t I? All those prayers and wishes I made, and finally they send someone to help me.”
I stepped out of his grasp and edged behind Sam, who was laughing hysterically.
“Help me,” I ground out.
“You did talk to him. Look at it this way—you’ve found a new admirer. Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”
“Sam!”
He sighed dramatically and clamped a hand on Psycho Ghost Guy’s forehead, freezing him—quite literally—in his attempt to reach out and grab me again. “Come now, man, I know you’re excited, but get a hold of yourself. There are rules when dealing with fairy godmothers, not the least of which is never, ever, touch the fairy. You think you can handle that?”
I wasn’t sure what shocked me more—that Sam was reasoning with him or that he’d completely immobilized the ghost with a single touch. Of course, he’d also gone along with the misunderstanding that I was some kind of fairy godmother, which for obvious reasons couldn’t have been further from the truth. Sam released Ghost Guy, who slumped to the floor, pouting, his eyes glossy with tears. There was something childlike and innocent in the way he looked up at me. “I’m sorry. I was so excited, I didn’t think about rules. Does this mean I don’t get a wish?”
“Ah.” I paused to clear my throat. “As long as it doesn’t happen again—”
“Of course she’ll grant your wish. Stand tall, mate,” Sam cut in, a devious smirk working its way through his lips. He moved behind me, grasped both my shoulders, and squeezed. Just what was he up to? “She’s a very powerful fairy, but she has a lot of rules and conditions. You need to follow every one if you want your wish granted. Can you do that?”
“I’ll do anything you want!”
“Sam,” I said through gritted teeth. What the fuck was he doing?
“You asked for my help. I’m just having a little fun in the process. Why not play along?”
What, by making this pathetic ghost think I could grant him wishes? No thank you. That seemed mean, especially when you considered the guy believed it was possible.
“Come on, he’s asking for it. Just look at him.” Sam stepped to my side, then gestured up and down my body. “Now rule number one, we’ve already discussed, is no touching the fairy.”
Ghost Guy raised his hand like a kid in a classroom. “Um, but you’re…touching her.”
Sam held up a finger. “Ah, yes, but I’m allowed to touch her. Call it my special privilege as her mentor.”
I snorted. “My ass.”
“Are you a fairy too?” Ghost Guy asked.
I snickered at the thought of Sam as a fairy, but he ignored both me and the question to continue his charade. “Now rule number two, and this is a big one. Are you ready?”
Ghost Guy, completely enthralled by Sam’s performance, nodded, wide-eyed.
“Rule number two, is you must, and I mean absolutely must be wearing pants.”
Ghost Guy’s lip quivered and he looked down, shock etched in his features, as if he’d just noticed they’d fallen down. He bent, grasped the waist of his pants, and after a pause and a deep breath, slowly slid them up his legs, then zipped and buttoned them.
Sam clapped. “Excellent! That’s the spirit. Now rule number three is most important of all. Fairies are shy creatures by nature, so while she’s granting your wish, you’ve got to close your eyes.”
“That’s it?” The excitement in the guy’s voice was barely contained. Whatever had been hanging him up and keeping him in this bar, we’d given him hope. I also got the feeling that Sam had no intention of helping the poor man, and he’d be crushed.
“See? Not hard at all. What’s your name?”
“Chester. But most people call me Chip.”
“Brilliant. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Chip. Now, what is it you most wish for?”
Chip tilted his chin up and bunched his hands into fists at his side. “I want to turn back time and have superpowers, so can I make them all pay for what they did.” His lower lip trembled. “Then maybe Tammy won’t laugh at me.”
“Tall order,” Sam said. “But consider it done. Now close your eyes—”
Chip squeezed his eyes shut.
“That’s right. Keep them shut.” Sam grasped my hand, and the next thing I knew, we
were out the front door, running.
* * *
“Sam!” I stopped running and dug my heels in place, but he had such a pace going that we both lost balance and toppled to the sidewalk. I didn’t have time to brace myself for the fall. Sam took the brunt of the impact for both of us and let out a loud grunt as I landed on top of him. “You ass, what the hell was that?”
Amusement slid from his face, replaced by confusion. He was on his back, propped up on his elbows, and I scrambled to pull myself off him. “What? I got us out of there, didn’t I?”
I smacked the side of his head. “That was really horrible. What the hell is wrong with you that you even think that’s funny? That poor guy is back there thinking I’m going to grant a wish that magically fixes all his problems.”
Irritation blazed through his eyes. “It’s his fault for being gullible. Besides, he’s a lost. Probably not all there. I’m sure he’ll forget all about it.” He snorted out a laugh. “Or maybe he’ll spend the next few decades standing there with his eyes closed.”
“You don’t need to be such a dick. That’s not even funny.” I stood and brushed at my clothes hastily. “I’m going back.”
“What—why? Just put it out of your mind.”
“I can at least talk to him. Maybe there’s something I can do to help.” I spun around and stalked away from him. Sam trotted up beside me.
“What can you possibly do? You can’t even step through a portal without freaking out. There’s no way you can handle a lost.”
I stopped and turned my head just enough that he could see my angry glare. “Thanks for reminding me how incompetent I am. Screw you, Sam.”
I walked briskly away from him, a flurry of emotions swirling between us. I’d just made it back to the entrance of the bar when he caught my arm. “Now hang on, don’t be angry. You’re not incompetent, you’re just new. I only meant it takes years of experience to learn how to handle a lost. There’s a whole division specifically trained for that.”
I stopped trying to break from his grasp, but refused to look at him. He let out a heavy sigh.
“Look, if you want to go back and try, we’ll go back. I’m just warning you it won’t be easy and it probably won’t go as you plan. If you understand that, then I see no harm in going back to talk to the little bugger. If that’s what you want.”
Valentines Heat I Page 5
