Boone cursed under his breath, and when I heard him walking toward me, I used the other doorway right as he came in. Out in the hall again, I bent and picked up a piece of broken board, chucking it through the entrance he’d just passed through. Apparently, mischief was the key to manipulating objects. Or, maybe the longer I am in this form, the easier it becomes. I really had no clue.
“Quit playing games, and show yourself,” he demanded, but I detected a slight waver in his voice.
My energy sapped, I didn’t think I’d be able to do much more. Moving as quietly as I could, I snuck up behind him and blew on his neck. He jumped and spun, but I’d already stepped to the side, deeper into the shadows. From my vantage point, I noticed his wide eyes and how his camera shook the tiniest bit. Not such a hotshot now. Probably wasn’t used to having so much activity this soon into an investigation.
That said, it appeared as though he heard my breath. Maybe I could use him. Nearly every episode of his web serial, Ravenwood Hauntings, he boasted about being highly sensitive to ghosts. It gave me a bit of hope. Luckily, it was easy to find out the truth.
“Can you hear me, Captain Ego?”
It surprised me to see him flinch, but he held his ground, taking a cautious step in my direction. “Come on, is someone messing with me? They told me no one would be up here.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right, nobody but us unruly ghosts.”
He shook his head. “Speakers. There have to be speakers.”
His attention diverted toward the walls, and he switched on a small flashlight. He examined every inch of the landing, poking his head into the other rooms. Dust motes swirled in the beam, illuminated snow falling from the ceiling and kicked up by Boone’s shoes. He walked by the doorway I stood in, and the beam of light flicked over me. He froze.
Slowly, he retraced his actions, and when the flashlight passed by me again, he cursed. Startled, he retreated a foot or two, fumbling to get his video recorder into position.
“Who are you?”
“You’re not near as good at this as you pretend.” I paused, as the full weight of the encounter hit me with the force of a speeding bus. “You can see me? And hear me?”
“I can, but you’re, I mean, you look...this isn’t how it usually works.”
I advanced on him, humming with excitement and backing him into a corner. “Awesome. Tell me what I look like.”
“Faint on the camera, but nearly solid when I look straight on. Modern clothes, long black hair, milky skin, green eyes, beautiful.”
“I know all that,” I said in exasperation. “I mean, am I solid? No, I must be translucent. Right? I mean, like, I look kinda transparent to myself, but I’m not sure what I see counts.”
“Yeah, faded and a little see-through.” He lowered his camera, and a scowl twisted his features. Pushing at his glasses, he asked, “You’re a hologram, aren’t you? Someone trying to prove what I do is fake? Well, it’s not. I am a professional.”
“Professional jerkwad, maybe.” I tried really hard not to laugh. Honestly, I did, but it bubbled out of me anyway. “Look, if I were a hologram or whatever, would I be able to do this?”
Reaching out, I passed my fingers through his arm, causing him to yank it away from me. I stared at my digits. An odd static sensation lingered, making them tingle.
“Did you feel it?”
Anyone who’d been touched by a ghost recognized the feeling. In reaction, he examined me closer. After a few long minutes, he drew in a deep breath and resumed recording, the tremor gone from his voice replaced by a firm, business-like tone.
“I’m at Moon River Brewing in Savannah, Georgia and have just encountered a surprisingly vivid entity of a young girl, late teens, I’d guess. Hot, but you all can see that through the lens.”
“Hot? Really? Don’t be lame.” Although, some part of me flushed at the idea of him describing me as attractive twice in the last couple of minutes.
“What can I say? I am a seeker of truth.”
“I won’t let you use me for one of your stupid videos. Turn it off.”
“No, this is unprecedented. Imagine all the hits I’ll get off this.”
A flash of anger flared inside me. Without thinking, I reached out and swiped at his arm hard, knocking the camera out of it. The device bounced across the floor, coming to stop a few feet away. Boone only showed a second of shock, with saucer-sized eyes and an open mouth. Then, he recovered and regained his air of confidence. Tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he leaned against the wall.
“Okay, you have my attention.”
This was my worst nightmare as a ghost, or whatever I was. Being caught in some strange interaction with a guy I had zero respect for. It hammered home how screwed up everything was. I came to Moon River intent on tracking down Abby, but after stopping to consider it, what did I expect to happen when I found her? She couldn’t hear me, and obviously EVPs—electronic voice phenomenon—weren’t reliable. Boone offered a different option. For some reason, he saw me. The worst part? I liked that he saw me. Finally, I felt normal, more so than I had with Abby and despite the fact Boone flinched every time I lifted my hand. For now, I was just Quinn—not sad ghost Quinn or angry vengeful Quinn.
“Did you die in this building?” To himself, he mumbled, “Recently I’d say, based on your clothes. It would have been in the news, though.”
His question startled me out of my wandering thoughts. “Your detective skills are astounding,” I drawled. “And why would you assume that?”
“Uh, because you’re here? Most spirits tend to haunt the places important to them, a place they died, especially if it was a traumatic death. The violent energy traps them in the location.”
“I know all that,” I snapped. “But I’m different.” Unfortunately, I knew if I wanted his help, sooner or later I’d have to dig into the pile of reasons the ghostly rules didn’t apply to me.
“You’re a grouchy ghost.”
“I’m not a ghost.”
“It’s okay. I’ve come across plenty who believe they’re still alive.”
I crossed my arms. “Oh, yeah? And what do you call it if my body is running around, inhabited by someone else?”
“Delusional.” He smirked, flashing the dimple in his left cheek.
“You really are a jerk.”
He laughed.
“This is not something to laugh about!” The timbre of my voice danced around us. “I’m telling you the truth. I was ousted from my body by a maniacal spirit who is currently taking up residence there. And I can prove it.”
“Look,” he began, the patience leaving him. “You’re obviously new, so I can’t explain it any better. What you’re suggesting is not possible. Never, in all my years investigating, have I come across someone claiming to have been forced out of their body. Sharing it with some kind of possession, yes. Eviction? No way.”
“All your years? What is that, like two?”
“I’m twenty-three and I’ve been doing this since I was sixteen, when I finally realized what it was I’d been seeing and hearing all my life. Seven years in some of the scariest places you can imagine, cupcake.”
“Are you trying to impress me?” I really couldn’t figure him out. Other than the fact my fingers quivered with the urge to throttle him.
“No. Either you want my help or you don’t. At this point, I am kind of hoping you don’t.”
“Well, I do. Nobody has been able to see me. You can’t imagine how nice it is to finally be seen, to have a conversation with someone living.” Inspiration struck. “Go downstairs, into the kitchen, ask for Abby Gatlin. She’s my best friend. I told you, I can prove this.”
“Fine.” He stalked over to where his camera landed and picked it up, testing the buttons. “If you ever get your body back, you owe me a recorder.”
“Whatever.” I brushed past him, the same static feeling shooting through my arm as I did, and headed downstairs.
“Something is different, th
ough. Most ghosts kind of float. You walk, unless it’s because you’re so new. And you’re so vivid,” he observed behind me.
“Because I’m not dead, dummy.”
A snort was my only answer. I began to wonder if I actually was dead and being stuck with Boone Ravenwood as my only earthly contact was my hell. We bypassed the bustling restaurant, the faint scent of fried chicken teasing my stomach. I led Boone through the swinging doors and searched for Abby.
She came in after us with a bin full of dirty dishes precariously balanced on one arm. Her gaze landed on Boone and narrowed, but she ignored him and went about her job.
“That’s her,” I told him.
He sighed and moved in her direction. “Abby?”
She set the dishes down with a little more force than needed. “Get out. This is the kitchen, no poor ghosts to provoke in here.”
“Now I can see why you two are friends,” Boone said softly to me. Then, he glanced around the kitchen and asked, “Can I talk to you? Outside?”
“What is this about?” She propped the fist of her unbroken arm on her hip and frowned. “If you want to interview me about this place, forget it. Our investigations will not be used on your silly little webcast.”
“Investigations?” He snuck an interested look in my direction. “That’s not what this is about. Do you have a sec?”
“For you? Nope.”
“It’s about a mutual friend. Trust me.”
After a few second, she blew out a breath. “Fine. Whatever.” She called out to one of the chefs, telling him she was taking a quick break and led Boone outside. “But if I find out this is a trick, or I end up online, I have ways to make you regret it.”
“I do not doubt you,” he chuckled.
“In case you care, my name is Quinn Roberts.”
He glanced at me with a sheepish grin. Of course he didn’t consider asking something so personal. He was only interested in sensational facts—ones he could use for entertainment value.
Wow, I needed to chill out. Boone didn’t have to be doing this.
“Okay, what’s up?” Abby asked once we were outside.
“This is kind of strange,” Boone hedged. “Do you know someone named Quinn Roberts?”
“She’s my best friend.” A trace of sorrow laced her answer. “I already told you, we won’t let you use our evidence.”
“You’re ghost hunters?” He directed this question to me.
“Why is it hard to believe?” I asked.
But Abby presented her own inquiry. “Isn’t that what this is about? What else could you want with her? She’s kind of spoken for.”
He scratched his left shoulder awkwardly. “Is she...is she alive?”
I watched my friend try to decide if he was serious or not, but her visit to my house earlier, and mine to hers, must have been fresh in her mind.
“Why would you think she isn’t?” A trace of suspicion remained. “I saw her three hours ago.”
“You’re pulling my leg.” Boone didn’t sound as confident as he probably intended.
“Do you know about what happened at the cemetery?” She advanced on him, peppering him with questions. “Can you help us? What do you know about ghost possessions? Can a person who is possessed by a spirit, like, astral project to a place blocks away and give me an EVP? Wait, how in the earth did you find out about this?”
“Oh, sweet Jesus. You’re serious?” I smirked at Boone’s outburst, enjoying seeing him off balance. He turned to me. “You were telling the truth!”
“Who was?” Abby asked.
“I told you,” I said. “What happened to me is different.”
He shook his head. “But this would mean something out there has the power to force you out of your body. That doesn’t happen.”
“Why is it so hard for you to accept? Paranormal investigating requires an open mind. It’s an exploration of the unexplained.”
“You watch my shows?”
Crap, I nearly slapped my forehead. I forgot it was one of his quotes. “A moment of weakness,” I ground out. “Focus on me, please? Are you ready to believe me yet?”
“You’ve had a little more time to get used to it than I have.”
“Will you tell me what the heck is going on? Who are you talking to?”
Boone and I both startled at Abby’s outburst. He answered as he pulled out his camera and queued up the footage of what I assumed was me. Apparently, the device worked just fine.
“I’m talking to Quinn. She was upstairs for some reason, told me to come and talk to you.” He fixed her with a hard gaze. “Don’t freak out. I’m guessing this might be a bit of a shock. Look.”
He showed her the display screen, and as it played, her expression changed from doubtful to shocked and finally, awe.
“I knew it! I mean, I suspected, but this explanation seemed too crazy, even for Quinn.”
I chuckled as Boone looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Not the reaction I expected.”
“Wait, if she’s here, who is in her body?”
“Catherine,” I answered.
“She says it’s Catherine,” Boone repeated. “Who’s Catherine?”
“Long story.” Abby sighed, but her eyes glittered with excitement. “I probably should go inside and tell them I’m leaving early. Blame it on the broken arm. This is going to take a few hours.” She made to go, then turned back. “How come you can see her, and I can’t?”
“Maybe I’m that good at what I do.” He flashed a grin.
“Oh, please,” Abby and I said at the exact same time. I shot a grin at my BFF, not caring she didn’t see it.
“Quinn isn’t too impressed,” he joked.
“No, she ain’t exactly your biggest fan.” Abby departed, leaving us alone in the alley.
“Ouch.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re really hurt.”
Listless, I wandered to the right, close to the empty corner lot next to Moon River. I’d heard rumors they were going to make it a huge outdoor patio pretty soon. Now, it was overrun with weeds and marks from cans of spray paint, showing the patio might actually not be too far off.
“How long has it been?”
Exhaustion weighed me down. Using so much energy talking had really taken its toll. I opened my mouth to speak. Then, I realized I wasn’t exactly sure.
“What day is it?”
“Late Saturday night.” His brows knitted together in confusion. “You don’t know how long it’s been?”
Crap, it was Saturday, wasn’t it?
“I do now,” I snapped. “Seventeen days or so. Time passes differently. Emotions take over, or I get distracted. Like tonight, all I wanted was to make it to Abby, but something lured me upstairs. A ghost I’d seen before.”
“You’re a sensitive, too?” Finally, I heard a trace of respect in his voice.
“For as long as I can remember. Experiencing it from the other side has given me a whole new perspective. Now I understand why they try so hard to be heard.”
He nodded, shadows crawling across his face. Unbidden, empathy crept in. I didn’t want to feel any kind of kinship to him. Staring back at me, I felt him assessing and fidgeted.
Abby bounced out of the restaurant, slinging her purse over her shoulder. I loved her so much for her positivity. “Let’s get this show on the road. Boone, you are in for a heck of a tale, completely off the record, and hopefully, you can help me find out from Quinn what is happening in that house of hers.”
Chapter Six
While Abby got some provisions from the corner store, Boone and I waited in awkward silence on the sidewalk. We were on East Bryan Street, across from Johnson Square. Abby’s idea was to use one of the town greens, saying it would draw less stares than a restaurant when Boone talked to someone who wasn’t there. Then she disappeared inside the store for junk food, her late night go-to when she was stressed.
“I bet you two are quite the pair,” Boone said, grinning, holding his phone up to hi
s ear and pretending to talk to someone instead of empty air.
“Pretending to be on the phone? What are you afraid of? People finding out you’re not as cool as you act?”
“You can be quite nasty, you know that? I’m not even sure why I agreed to put up with this.” He put the phone away, appearing slightly embarrassed.
“Um, maybe because you’re also not as smart as you think and recognize a good learning opportunity when you see one.”
“I repeat, nasty.” He flashed me an amused grin. “Tell me about you and Abby.”
I shrugged as the crosswalk changed and walked over to the other side of the street, knowing Abby would catch up. “She’s a sister to me. The only real family I have.”
“Well, that’s just sad.”
“Daddy died five years ago, which is sort of a beginning point to the story. He had remarried, and, for a while, we were happy. I gained a stepmother, Marietta, and two stepsisters. Once he was gone, things changed. Marietta became mean, making me work at her salon while she doted on her daughters.”
“Wait, I see where this story is going.”
“Yeah, I have a few things in common with Cinderella, but I have not had my happy ending...yet.” I continued with the story. “I began seeing a shadow following her. Not long after, her behavior changed. She became terrible, worse than before, and eventually somewhat abusive. That’s when the attacks started.”
I filled him in on the events of the last three months, building up to my eighteenth birthday. We were sitting in the grass, and I’d just gotten to the night we tried to beat Catherine in the cemetery when Abby showed up with a bag of goodies. She sat across from Boone and pulled out a giant bottle of Mountain Dew.
“So, what’d I miss?” she asked.
“I feel like I’ve stepped into an episode of the X-Files,” Boone joked.
“Ha, I wish. Then I’d have Mulder instead of you.”
He flashed me an appreciative smile. “Not many people your age know about that show. Impressive.”
“I got her hooked on it,” Abby said, ripping open a pack of Twizzlers, as well as she could with the cast, and offered one to Boone.
A Strange There After Page 4
