Ghost Mysteries & Sassy Witches (Cozy Mystery Multi-Novel Anthology)

by Неизвестный

  The thing under the covers let out a shy giggle that was almost a perfect imitation of Brenda. Almost. The pitch and rhythm was off just enough to send a chill of apprehension through Eli.

  As the hands made their way to the buttons on Eli’s shirt, he slowly reached out along the wall in search of the light switch. Long fingers tugged at his buttons clumsily, like they had no experience with such a thing. The air smelled of something unusual. Chalk. Or Coal. Whatever the scent, it was the opposite of the ocean shore.

  Eli swished his hand over the area on the wall he guessed held the light switch, growing more desperate by the second. Panic set in. His armpits prickled as rivulets of sweat ran from every pore.

  The thing in the bed next to him did not comment or act disgusted by his sweating.

  It was definitely not Brenda.

  At last, his fingers found the switch, and he flicked the light on.

  Bright light seared his dark-adjusted eyes, but he didn’t dare close his eyelids. The shape rose up, tossing the bedcovers aside like an unwanted cape. It rose up, up to the ceiling—a smoky darkness that was the absence of form, and at the same time, as sleek and shiny as a beetle. There were teeth, and more teeth, all black and pointed.

  The blackness rose up like a wave and then crashed down upon Eli’s chest. His chest and lungs collapsed under its weight. How could it float and be so heavy? This had to be a nightmare.

  Eli tried to inhale. He had to scream, but for that he needed air. The darkness seemed to sense this, and grew even heavier on his chest. It pressed beetle-shiny, bony fingers across his mouth. Eli flared his nostrils and willed himself to breathe in through his nose. Air wouldn’t come in, because moving his chest was difficult under the weight.

  As terrified as he was, Eli’s mind remained sharp. His eyes watered, and he longed to close his eyelids, but he forced himself to stay present, keep looking.

  The thing had a mouth, with teeth. That meant it had a face, and he knew that eyes were a weak point for all creatures. Above the mouth were two small holes. His hand twitched, but he commanded it to wait.

  The small holes were nostrils, probably, and the eyes would be up higher and… glowing red. Yes, those had to be the eyes.

  With courage and conviction, Eli swung his arms up and plunged his thumbs into the red glowing eyes. His hands passed through with no effect. At the same time, the bony hand covering his mouth pressed down harder, splitting his lip against his teeth, filling his mouth with the taste of his blood.

  Not giving up yet, Eli looked wildly around the room and struggled to inhale through his nostrils. If he could scream for Brenda, she’d do something. Just as he felt the first sweet hints of oxygen in his lungs, the creature’s mouth curved into a grin, and a forked tongue slid from its black lips like a snake.

  Was the light still on? The world was growing dim. The horror was decreasing, at least, closing to a small circle, like the world as seen through a milkshake straw.

  Both sides of the forked tongue slid up his nostrils, fitting as perfectly as two of Cinderella’s feet sliding into glass slippers.

  Eli thought about straws and milkshakes in tall sundae glasses, and Cinderella, and then he lost consciousness.

  Eli awoke with a start. Something was wrong. His pajamas were damp, and Brenda was cuddled up next to him.

  He’d just had the most terrible dream, and it lingered on his skin and in his nostrils. He reached up to his nose and found great chunks of dried mucus, along with what felt like petroleum jelly.

  The shape next to him in the bed snuggled closer and let out a high-pitched giggle. Eli’s blood turned to icewater. It giggled again, nowhere near an imitation of Brenda.

  It wasn’t even trying.

  He took a huge breath in and reached for the light switch for the second time.

  Or was this the second time?

  It was now 5:55am, and had he not done this over and over again? His pajamas were damp, but he was now too dehydrated to sweat. All his sweat glands were dry. The blood in his mouth was refreshing, almost, due to his lack of saliva.

  He flicked on the light, unable to stop himself, for fighting it in the light was awful, but fighting in the dark, as he had for five of the encounters, was much, much worse.

  The darkness rose up like a tsunami and crashed on his chest as the ceiling light flared on.

  When the forked tongue slithered up his nostrils, Eli began to pray.

  He was not the praying type.

  But in the long, nightmare seconds of fading consciousness, Eli prayed for death.

  Chapter Five

  At 7:05am, Eli awoke to the sound of his alarm clock gently chiming. The blackout curtains, which were on a timer, rattled and slid open with mechanical regularity.

  The curtains were supposed to open five minutes before the first alarm bells, but they’d been losing sixty seconds every twenty-four hours.

  Eli wondered how it could be that a digital timer, with no moving parts, could lose time. How did a computer tell time, anyway? It had to be electrical cycles, or something. If he’d taken something useful in college, he would know the answer to that, and other important questions.

  He made a mental note to do a search for “how does a computer measure time?” on the internet later that day. When Eli made mental notes about things he wanted to research later, he always pre-composed the search string in his head for easy access.

  The alarm clock’s beeping grew louder.

  Breathing was difficult, due to the bruises on his chest and the dried matter in his nostrils.

  Eli’s brain had protected his consciousness by closing off the horror of the last four hours. It had drawn a blackout curtain across that knowledge, and only now were the gears turning and the windows opening.

  With every bone in his body creaking in protest, Eli rolled forward and pushed the alarm’s snooze button with a trembling finger.

  In the bright morning light, he thought about what had happened to him. A creature had suffocated him into unconsciousness as many as a dozen times, and then woken him up to play the game all over again.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, then reached for the short pants he’d been wearing the day before, and shook the Ghost Hackers business card out onto the sheets without touching it.

  The card wasn’t black after all, but a medium gray, halfway between black and white. He leaned down and examined it closer. Actually, it wasn’t gray at all. It was cream paper, covered in a dusty substance that reminded him of a moth’s wings. The creamy paper showed through beneath oily fingerprints.

  He didn’t know how he knew it, but Eli was absolutely positive the dust on the card was a hallucinogenic substance, and that rat bastard Khan had set this whole thing up.

  His mind whirred. It was the most logical explanation.

  The powdery substance had gradually absorbed through his skin and caused an extreme anxiety response while he was sleeping. He must have imagined the whole red-eyed scary darkness thing, because Eli knew that ghosts weren’t real. It was the only logical explanation.

  Eli snorted, which felt like sniffing hot chili powder, given the abused state of his nostrils.

  Using the edge of his pajama shirt, he wiped the remainder of the toxic powder off the card. He didn’t know what the substance was, but he wouldn’t sleep until he was sure it was clear of his system. A quick search online would probably net him the street name of the drug: “hallucinogenic drug, grey powder, anxiety response.”

  Since he was looking at Khan’s phone number already, Eli retrieved his phone from the charging station on the dresser and punched in the number. Just before he hit the call button, he saved the number to his contacts. He didn’t know why, but he did.

  Khan answered with a grunt. He sounded like he’d been sleeping a nice, peaceful sleep with no nightmare monsters suffocating him.

  Well played, Eli thought. Of course Khan would be expecting his call right about now. The sleepy grunt was part of his con. He’d b
e waiting for Eli to beg for help with an exorcism, or a ghost hack, or whatever Khan called it.

  Boy, was he in for a surprise. Eli had already figured everything out, thanks to his science.

  “I’d like to sue you for everything you have,” Eli said. As he heard his voice, he admired its raspy ruggedness. The night’s suffering had resulted in one positive side effect, at least.

  Immediately and calmly, Khan replied, “I have nothing. You must have the wrong number, my man.”

  “It’s me, Eli.”

  “Eli,” he said warmly, completely shifting tones. “Good to hear your voice. Are you always up this early?”

  Khan’s cheerfulness threw Eli off. That, and the extreme dehydration.

  “I didn’t sleep well,” Eli replied, his raspy voice taking on a whining edge. “What you did to me, that was a terrible thing. I thought you were a cool guy. I was going to invite you to my next party, but now you’re off the list.”

  Khan chuckled. “I don’t know what you think I did, but if you’re having a breakdown, you should call The Number.”

  Eli sucked in breath between his teeth. Oh, no, Khan did not just suggest Eli call The Number. Those were fighting words.

  “You’re no longer a potential friend,” Eli growled. “And I will be considering my legal options for much of the day. I will seek free legal advice. I will never actually follow through, because I’m not a follow-through guy, but consider yourself threatened with a two percent chance of being sued.”

  As Khan chuckled on the other side of the phone call, Eli cursed the chip in his head that made him too truthful for empty threats.

  He couldn’t lie, but he could swear. Eli called Khan every nasty name he could think of, then ended the call.

  He visited the washroom and drank three full glasses of water then used a fourth to down a medley of colored pills.

  Feeling much better after a hot shower and a change of clothes, Eli squeezed through the narrow hall toward the apartment’s living space.

  He expected to find Brenda asleep on the sofa, discarded candy wrappers scattered around her sleeping form. During the day, Brenda ran a tight dietary ship. At night, however, she trudged with closed eyes to the pantry cupboards, where she foraged on anything in a plastic package. She claimed she wasn’t conscious when this happened, yet she never once opened the packets of raisins Eli kept buying to test her.

  The pantry doors were closed, and when he finally located Brenda’s slim form, Eli gasped. She sat under the eating table, hugging her legs and rocking, her pale eyes wide and ringed by dark smears. Eli’s chest seized with emotion. Brenda wasn’t perfect, but she was his—his to protect.

  He squatted under the table and drew her into his arms. He murmured reassurances and kissed the top of her head. She crumpled against him fetchingly and sobbed into his shoulder.

  Eli held her for five and a half minutes, rocking and soothing her.

  The whole time, he kept his voice calm. Inside, his rage was growing like a bonfire. The hallucinogenic substance must have transferred from his skin to hers. He gritted his teeth and wished he could take everything back. He would endure twice the nightmares to spare sweet, frail, sobbing Brenda from a single minute of distress caused by another.

  She sniffed, and took a sighing breath, signaling the end of her outburst. He knew to loosen his arms at that moment and let her pull away at her own pace. To hold tightly a moment too long would make her claustrophobic.

  He gazed down at her face, damp and streaked with black. The wet mascara was truly horrifying, but he saw through the darkness, and then he saw all the way through Brenda, to a reflection of someone. The man he wanted to be.

  Her protector.

  Softly, he asked, “Did you have a nightmare while you were allegedly sleepwalking?”

  She bristled visibly at his use of the word allegedly, but there was nothing either could do about the truth.

  “There was a big, black cat sleeping on my chest,” she said.

  He glanced around the apartment. A cat? They lived on the fourth floor, and rarely opened the windows more than a crack, but it was possible a cat had gotten in.

  “Are you sure it was a cat?”

  She pulled away completely, until her back was against the wall. They were still sitting under the eating table, and this seemed as good a place as any to have this conversation.

  Brenda eyed him with suspicion. “Eli, my love, my super-smart boyfriend with a liberal arts degree from a prestigious university, if it wasn’t a cat, pray tell, what do you think it was?”

  Eli swallowed hard. Normally, he could plead something like this out and take a lesser sentence to avoid testifying against himself. This morning, however, he held firmly to the belief he’d done nothing wrong. The innocent have nothing to fear, after all.

  He began to relay what had happened the day before, omitting the part where he considered purchasing several vintage gaming consoles. He told her about meeting the con artist and getting the drug-laden business card. He accurately relayed his battle with the nightmarish ghoul, and how he’d prayed for death.

  When he was finished, she ran a white-coated tongue over her cracked lips. “Good job,” she said flatly. “You brought home a demon ghost.”

  “Not a demon ghost. That’s the funny thing. It’s just an anxiety response to the hallucinogen. I imagined what I saw, and you imagined a black cat, but neither of them was real.”

  She shook her head, whipping her strawberry-blond hair. He wondered how many hours she had endured her nightmares. Her hair had matted overnight into the beginning of dreadlocks.

  “I’ve had panic attacks before,” she said. “This was real, Eli. I know what’s real.” She poked her finger into his chest like a blunt butter knife. “Demon ghosts are real, you brought this one home, and I will make your life a living hell until you—” she jabbed him in the chest repeatedly “—take care of your mess.”

  He rolled his eyes. The woman didn’t believe he had a microchip installed in his brain—something that was a medical, physical fact—yet she believed in supernatural creatures that came out at night to terrorize humans for absolutely no reason or financial gain.

  Brenda shoved him aside and crawled out from under the table. Once standing, she kicked him in the kidney—not hard enough to cause organ damage, but hard enough to make him wistfully nostalgic for ten minutes earlier, when he’d been her protector.

  “Brenda, I’m truly sorry about the hallucinations. I know it’s my fault.”

  She ignored him and paced the room, busy tapping away on her tablet.

  “Whatcha doing?” he asked casually.

  She snorted. “You can forget about going in to work today. I’ve moved the routes around, so you’re off, without pay. You can go straight out to see your boyfriend.”

  Now Eli snorted. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, but you love him,” she taunted. “Your eyes glazed over every time you said his name. Khan. Why don’t you shave your legs and put on one of my dresses? You make such a pretty girl.” She cackled.

  Eli shook his head and avoided her eyes. He made the executive decision to not come out from under the eating table. Ever.

  She kept cackling as she moved about the apartment, getting ready. Whatever happened to her overnight hadn’t dampened her Brenda-ness very much.

  Eli dozed off under the table, enjoying demon-free sleep for half an hour, until Brenda shook him awake.

  He had the day off work, but he still had to drop her off at the depot.

  Then he had to go see Khan in person, and get him to admit to the scam.

  Chapter Six

  Even though would have much rather found a quiet place to park the van and have a nap, Eli left the depot and drove directly to the address for Ghost Hackers.

  If he didn’t go, Brenda would ask, he’d tell the truth, and the whole situation would escalate. He had no choice.

  He backed into a parallel parking spot and glanced
up and down the street for parking attendants. The coast was clear at the moment, and he planned to be back out in five minutes anyway.

  He walked through the Ghost Hackers door. Once more, he stepped back through time, to the days of bulky stereos and bulky radios and bulky TVs. Maybe people weren’t getting bigger these days after all. Maybe they just looked bigger, because the technology was shrinking. Eli smiled at his clever slice-of-life observation and thought about getting his old blog going again: Eli’s Musings.

  Something was different inside the shop. The air had a brighter charge, and the person emerging from the dark bowels of the shop was not a blond-spiked man in camouflage clothes, but the girl he’d seen before. The pretty girl.

  “What can we do for you, sir?” she asked politely.

  “I need to speak to your… um… Khan.”

  “What if I don’t have a Khan?” She smiled, the expression dotting her cheek with the cutest little dimple. She had brown hair, the same medium shade as Eli’s, and she wore it pulled back in a sporty ponytail. Her lips were full and her ears were tiny. And, Eli noticed with guilty horror, she was human-colored, not see-through like Brenda.

  “I was here yesterday,” he gurgled through a nervously-clenching throat. “Whoever was here, I need to see him today. My future well-being depends on it.”

  “We were closed yesterday.” She batted her naturally brown, non-clumpy eyelashes. “If you saw something, it must have been a ghost.” She extended her hand across the counter toward him. “I’m Valentine. Valentine Hart.”

  Eli gurgled a non-verbal response and shook her hand, trying not to enjoy the feel of her smooth skin on his palm.

  Who was this lovely girl? Her name sounded like something from a comic book. Was Eli hallucinating again?

  She was pretty, but not like a model. Her teeth were big, and, even in the dim light of the shop, Eli could make out a few freckles across the bridge of her nose.

  She pried her hand out of his. “What did you say your name was? Glick-gluck?”