Unwed and Dead (The Dead Ex Files Book 1)

by Claire Kane

  “Okay,” he said, “that was more about Jessica’s secrets than I ever wanted to know.” And so, he paced around the office until the time came that Jessica was called back to see the doctor.

  Victor hesitated again; suspicious of what he may see or hear if he followed her. Odds were, he wasn’t going to learn anything more about his death; but there was a good chance he could learn about who was to blame if she were pregnant. He wasn’t sure why he cared, but a morbid curiosity drove him. Before he could talk himself out of it, he shut his eyes and forced himself forward. He slipped through the door behind her, bracing himself for something that might be horrible enough to make him prefer Legion.

  All too soon, Jessica had changed into a patient gown, and seated herself at the edge of the examination table. Her hands clamped together so tight, Victor imagined her false hot pink nails literally popping off.

  The doctor, a woman with short gray hair and kind eyes, knocked before entering, then promptly took her place on the rolling stool. “How are you?” she asked. “Seeing you for something other than your checkup, I see?”

  “I’m pregnant,” Jessica squeaked through clenched teeth. “I took like a bajillion pee tests, and they all came up positive.”

  Victor stepped back into his corner further, self-conscious that he could quite possibly be seen standing there, as nothing more than a creepy stalker. With that thought, he remembered one of the times Jessica stalked him. He felt his mind float into the past…

  Another day, like any other at Kyoto Consulting, had passed. He stumbled through his door, ready to flop on the couch. He loosened his tie as he entered the living room, and who was sitting there? Jessica, wearing nothing but a sequined slip negligee.

  Jumping back in surprise, he nearly knocked a picture off the wall. “Gah—what are you doing here?”

  “I know you missed me.” She seductively curled a blond tendril around her finger. “I’m just here to give you what I know you’ve always wanted.”

  Victor put a hand up in protest. “What? I’m not interested! I–I never pushed you for that anyway, Jessica.”

  Undeterred, she stood, slinking toward him, one bare foot in front of the other, with a sway to her hips. Coming right up to him, she said with a husky voice, “Come on, Victor. I flew all the way from Washington to see you. You don’t need to play hard to get.” With that she put a hand around his neck and stepped on her toes for a kiss.

  He turned on his heels, heading back to the door. He opened it, and said, “I have a girlfriend, Jessica. Now please. I’m sorry you wasted a plane ticket, but this is not going to happen.”

  “A girlfriend?” Her eyes turned red, as she picked up a bag of her belongings. “Well, we’ll see how long this one lasts. What’s her name?”

  Was that a threat? he wondered. Instead of answering, he quickly offered her the chance to change in the bathroom, before leaving.

  “No thanks.” Her green eyes turned icy as she stepped into the hall.

  Jessica’s doctor burst his memory bubble. “Go ahead and lie down,” she instructed for the ultrasound. The woman soon showed Jessica an image across a small screen. Something flickered. A heartbeat. “You see it? A nice strong beat.”

  Jessica nodded, with a small smile, appearing reassured. But she said, “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

  “What does the dad think?” the doctor asked, nonchalantly.

  She shrugged. “I–I don’t even know his name. Jeff, Justin? Started with a J. We met at a mixer. I was waaaay too drunk.”

  The woman eyed her sympathetically.

  “But!” Jessica pointed a finger with determination. “I’m seeing someone else… Victor’s his name.”

  Victor’s eyebrows shot up at that. He stepped closer. “You’re not seeing me.” He would’ve chuckled at the double meaning, if the circumstances were… different.

  “And,” Jessica went on, “I think he’d make the perfect father.”

  A dimpled grin unexpectedly sprang across Victor’s face. He might not care for Jessica, but the sentiment was somewhat touching.

  Breaking the sweet moment, his double-ex-girlfriend said, “He’s going to make a ton of money. Just graduated college, and will be able to buy the little bub whatever its heart desires.”

  Even the doctor physically cringed at that revelation. “Well,” she stammered, “there are other… avenues… you can take, if you’re not ready. Have you spoken with a counselor about abortion?”

  That got an eye roll from Victor, and a “no” from Jessica.

  None too soon, the appointment was over, and Victor breathed the proverbial sigh of relief as he all but ran from the OB’s office. He’d actually left as soon as the doctor had exited, uninterested in seeing where Jessica went from there. He consoled himself with the idea that the visit wasn’t a waste, because he was now certain of two things: that Jessica was pregnant—and, of course, with someone else’s child—and Jessica didn’t murder him, despite her creepy habits of breaking and entering.

  TWELVE

  The orange drapes were thin, gauzy. Lacey struggled to pull the fabric over the curtain rod just purchased from Bed, Bath and Beyond.

  “Careful, careful,” Nainai said, still in the wheelchair. “Don’t rip it. I knew we should have taken the rod with us.”

  “It wouldn’t fit in our luggage,” Lacey said, now lightly plucking at the material in an effort to scoot it across. “I filled one suitcase alone with about fifty pounds of tea sets and trinkets.”

  “You’ll be happy we did. Quite a few of those bring good luck! I’d like my maneki-neko”—she spoke of the big, paw-waving ceramic cat—“to have the best placement, here, in the living room. How much do you know about feng shui?”

  “Not much,” Lacey said, distracted. She got the drapes across half the rod.

  “I see I have lots of work to do, then.” Nainai peered across the large living space, stylishly decorated with a white leather couch set, 60-inch flat screen and pointillism paintings probably from T.J. Maxx. “There’s not a drop of Asian inspiration, here.”

  *

  Victor hated being away from Lacey, but Rao had insisted upon it as soon as the sun had risen, shortly after they’d landed in the States. While the love of his life was off shopping with her eccentric grandmother, Victor was suspended in mid-air over one of the confluence of Interstates 5 and 90 near the heart of Seattle, being mocked by his dead pet. Memories of the odor of car exhaust wafted through his mind; he could hear the honks and curses of the drivers better now than he could when he’d been alive. By rights, he should have been grateful that he was up here instead of down there, but he still struggled against the belief that he should be plummeting to his death.

  Now, Rao said, waving a paw and causing a rectangular segment of the air to darken into what looked like an old-fashioned chalkboard, some things you really ought to know since you’re so pigheaded that you won’t move on with life.

  “Don’t you mean ‘move on with death’?”

  Rao pointedly ignored him, and with another wave of a paw caused badly-drawn chalk images of ghosts to appear on the board. Victor shuddered at the realization of what they meant. We’ve already talked about the basics of moving when you’re dead. Gravity means nothing. You choose your altitude. Passing through solid objects is automatic unless you come home so I can teach you otherwise. Since you’re not coming home, and since I don’t have the luxury of loitering with a reprobate like you, the only other major lesson I’m allowed to teach you is how to handle the Dark Ones.

  Victor gazed up into the sky, and pretended he was sitting on something solid. “You mean Legion?”

  Rao bristled visibly. That’s not a name angels speak. That tends to attract their attention when spoken by spiritual beings. Which leads to the most vital thing I can teach you regarding them: avoidance will be your best defense. If you’re never around them, they can never hurt you.

  “And how do I avoid them?”

 
For starters, you don’t call them. Don’t use their title. Avoid places they like to congregate—usually dark places, seedy places, and especially situations involving intoxication of some kind.

  “So, no back alleys at night, no clubs or bars, and no government buildings.”

  Rao gave him a half-lidded stare.

  “Oh, come on, cat. That was funny. You gotta give me that.”

  She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. Another thing that draws them is negative emotions. They love fear, hatred, anger, depression, the whole lot. It’s like food for them.

  “But sarcasm is okay, right?”

  Rao gave him another withering stare.

  “Okay, okay. Geez. Just calling it how I see it.”

  Rao wiped the board clean. Angels keep their emotions in check. We’re not robots without personalities. There’s a difference. She gestured, and pictures of churches, a copse of trees, and some shrines scrawled themselves across the board.

  In the event you’re too dumb to avoid them—

  “What was that about negative emotion calling them?”

  —then your second line of defense is to find a sacred space. Wooded areas can easily go either way, so be careful of them. Better to stick with sites you know are used for holy purposes.

  Victor summoned enough courage to look down. He scanned for churches until his fear of falling got the better of him, then whipped his eyes back to Rao. “How about you just show me that super-glowy thing you did when you first saved me from them?”

  That, she said, sounding honestly sad, is something I cannot do for you. Not even if you come home.

  Victor stared at her. “You’re kidding.”

  It’s a matter of being holy, Vic. You’re a good guy, but you’ve still got issues to deal with—among them your selfishness and stubbornness. Your unwillingness to sacrifice. You’re holding yourself back and, as such, barring yourself from becoming the kind of being who can channel the light of truth the way I did.

  It takes courage. Selflessness. Sometimes it helps to have a cause.

  “But I do have a cause,” he said, spreading his hands.

  Feel that anger rising in you? she asked.

  Victor paused and, on honest reflection, admitted she was right.

  You staying here is all about you, Victor. It’s not even really about her. And it won’t be until you grow up and get over yourself.

  He seethed. “You can read my mind, and you’re still saying I don’t love her? How dare you? I would had died for her, Tibbits.”

  Rao sighed. The fact that you don’t even see the problem is part of the problem. But don’t worry; I have faith in you. Yes, you do love her, but one day, you’ll understand more about what pure love is. And when you’re there, you won’t have to ask me about the “glowy thingy” I do.

  He made to speak but Rao cut him off. How about we keep working on your ability to fly for now? I can see this isn’t the best time to discuss the finer points of your psyche.

  Victor scoffed, but, after a moment, realized he was acting a little too juvenile, and nodded only somewhat sullenly.

  That’s my boy. Now, there’s a redhead down there who’s stuck looking for a gypsy with only a jerk for her companion. Let’s fly over and see whether we can learn from them before Lacey calls you again. And with that, she was off.

  *

  Not long after, Lacey stood in the Space Needle, looking out from the observation deck. Confident that her grandma was comfortably settled in with all the food she’d need, Lacey had excused herself for the remainder of the day, and called to Victor’s mind, asking him to meet with her again. He’d agreed instantly, and she felt his annoyance at having been separated in the first place; he didn’t bother to explain his absence, and she didn’t bother to ask.

  Cool air fingered her long hair. It was an excellent place to think. At five-hundred and sixty feet above the panoramic view of Seattle, she gazed out at the dull gray sky that loomed above Seattle’s distinct cityscape. Normally, the view would have been breathtaking—enough to make her ignore the other few patrons—but she had more important things on her mind. Victor paced in the air nearby, clearly lost in thought.

  “This whole finding out who your murderer is, is going to be harder than anticipated,” she said. Noticing a sidelong glance from another woman on the deck, Lacey moved elsewhere, Victor trailing her. She stopped, then lowered her voice, hoping that the old man trundling toward her on the observation deck wouldn’t have such acute hearing. “We’re dealing with two separate continents. Two different cultures!”

  “Which is why you’ll be my perfect teammate,” Victor said, smiling big. “Call it serendipitous!”

  She pulled a notepad out of her purse. “We need to make a list of who might’ve killed you. Tell me who you think may have done it.” Poised and waiting, she looked up at Victor, who, for drama’s sake, was pacing along the ledge, beyond the metal fence enclosure.

  “We know Jessica is no longer a possibility,” he said. “She just wanted me to be her baby daddy.”

  “Right,” Lacey agreed with a serious nod. “In that case, she wouldn’t want you dead.”

  “And…” He paused.

  “Think of who might have a grudge against you. Did you get into any fights lately? Make someone angry?” The thought was absurd. Everyone seemed to get along with Victor.

  “The IRS?” he stated weakly. “I filed for an extension in May.”

  She huffed. “And you are an accountant? Think, Victor.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s kinda hard to when I know my funeral is this weekend.”

  Lacey’s face softened. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s going to be really weird seeing my own coffin.” His eyes shifted to her. “You’ll be there, right?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said.

  Her phone rang. She pulled it out of her slim coat. It was Greg.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Lace. You made it home okay?”

  “I did.”

  “Where are you at, right now?”

  “The Space Needle.”

  “I couldn’t reach you for a couple days. I’m very sorry for what happened. We need to talk. Can we maybe meet up tonight?”

  “Uh, I’m not sure, Greg.” She hesitated, flicking a telling glance toward Victor.

  Victor took the hint and walked far enough away to give her the impression of some privacy, then sat on the ledge to let her deal with the uncomfortable phone call without distraction. Being able to dangle on the edge of a structure taller than most skyscrapers without so much as breaking a sweat was an unexpected perk of being dead. High above the traffic and general busyness of Washington’s most famous city, Victor found he actually enjoyed the view, even during daylight. He just wished he didn’t have to spend his nights holed up against the demons. At least he could enjoy time with Lacey during waking hours.

  That won’t last forever, Rao said suddenly, materializing. For your sake, you need to spend more time listening to me and less time dragging your ex-girlfriend into something that could get her killed.

  Victor waved it away while Lacey’s call continued. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with me doing that in Tokyo.” Rao frowned, and turned her back on Victor.

  Tokyo had proven disappointing, in the end. Despite his ability to fly, walk through walls, and listen in on conversations because he was invisible and could read minds (and he’d heard some extremely interesting things lately), nothing had so much as tipped him off. Meanwhile, Rao had continued to follow him around, laying the guilt on thicker than tar as she tried persuading him it was time to ditch the scene and give Heaven a try. Though she had lain off since his little encounter with Lacey postmortem, she still managed to be annoying, though it was simultaneously comforting to have another familiar face around.

  As if mocking Victor, Rao began prancing around the extremities of the Space Needle, flitting out into space now and again, whereupon she’d plummet out of sight, only to
reappear moments later. Do you really think you and Lacey are going to figure this out? I’m telling you again—your time here is done. You really don’t know what you’re missing.

  “Will you stop doing that?” he muttered, his enhanced eyes still scanning the streets below. “You know I hate it when you pretend to fall from high places. Freaks me out.”

  You’re dead, Vic. You’ve been flying yourself. How does this—and she leapt out into space, dropped a few stories, then rocketed back to his side—still get to you? You’re halfway doing the same thing, dummy.

  Victor ignored her intentional dig, and turned back to his thoughts. Rao, in response, started flying loops and doing crazy dives and twists, even “crashing” into the Space Needle, only to emerge from somewhere else. “Why would someone want to kill me?”

  I could think of plenty of reasons.

  “Was it something I did? Something I didn’t do? Whoever it was, they knew where I lived. Who knew where I lived? Lacey, my parents, some friends from home, the human resources department at Kyoto Consulting… and of course Jessica, but I’ve already ruled her out.”

  Why did you keep in touch with her on Facebook, anyway?

  Victor sighed. “She stalked me there, too. I swear I never posted my Tokyo address online, though. And I guess there were still some old habits. Maybe I really thought we could just be friends, even if she was psychotic. But I didn’t think she was actually clinically insane.”

  You win some, you lose some.

  “Well, yeah,” Victor said, standing and deciding to walk carefully along the ledge if only to annoy his cat. His arms still instinctively extended to balance him, but he found the effort was entirely unnecessary. He heard a beep, and turned back to Lacey. Her expression was cold and thoughtful. He looked at Rao, who shrugged.