What Goes Bump In The Night

by C. R. Jane

  "He does. Questioning." It was all Maxon said, but it was enough. You didn't question what Falc wanted, and if he wanted them alive, I knew he had a damn good reason.

  Now free to cast a more complicated spell, Maxon called on his magic, weaving it together and unleashing it on the prisoners, knocking them out cold and preventing them from causing any more trouble. Afterward, he dialed Falcon, giving him a rundown on the events of the night.

  Blood trickled down my arm as I began the tedious task of spelling the cleanup-fixing buildings, cleaning streets, and setting the world back to rights. However, before I got very far, breathing suddenly became difficult and I lifted my good arm to rub at my sternum. My heart pounded out an erratic rhythm in my chest, and the world began to sway. I stumbled sideways. Something was definitely wrong.

  "Max," I called out as the street tilted up to greet me.

  "Josiah!" I heard the panicked yell of my brother as he rushed to my side. I wanted to move. To go to him, but my body wouldn't cooperate. He rolled me onto my back and finally took in the wound on my arm. "Shit! Hold on!" I heard him yelling into the phone, but I knew it was too late. The words garbled in my ears, sounding as if they were coming down a long tunnel. Whatever had been in that weapon had acted like a quick moving poison, and my body was failing me against my will. Pain ricocheted inside of me as my organs began to shut down, and I used the last of the strength I had left to create one last spell. A chant I never thought I'd have to conjure.

  "Div-e-dum." The sound was but a whisper on my lips, but I felt the magical essence inside of me gather in my fingertips, whispering out of me and into my brother as I repeated the word over and over, willing my power to leave me and transfer to him.

  "Don't you fucking dare!" His eyes were wide, terrified, but also angry. "Don't you fucking leave!"

  His hands gripped my shirt as he leaned over my prone form.

  Live. The word was all I had left in me, and as it crawled through our mental connection, I knew it was enough. He'd know what I meant. I kept my gaze on my brother as he cried out into the night, keeping him in focus until the last breath left my body and darkness claimed my soul.

  Chapter Three

  Felicity

  I hated dreams where you felt like you were falling, and I decided I doubly hated them when pain was involved. The dark chasm was never ending and my stomach dropped to my toes as I tumbled down the dark pit. My hands grasped for anything to hold onto-anything to slow my descent-but as I reached for the sides, what could only be described as tendrils of gloom reached back. With a yell, I pulled my hands away, curling in on myself. My skin was ice cold where the shadowy wisps had made contact and my stomach rolled unpleasantly. I was afraid I was going to lose its meager contents, and I wasn't looking forward to the probability.

  I was unable to dwell on the thought for long, however, because the familiar ache in my chest intensified to unbearable levels, and I screamed. Another episode.

  I twisted below my sheets, tangling them around my legs-aware but not truly awake.

  The pain ratcheted up to a new degree, causing my entire body to arch off the mattress. It felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside out. Luca's loss seemed to haunt me even in my sleep, and the sigil they found tattooed onto his flesh flashed through my mind. He'd always hated tattoos, so the fact that his skin was branded with one didn't make sense. It was one more unanswered question surrounding his death.

  Despite how much I tried, I couldn't pry my eyes open nor drag myself into reality.

  Breathing became difficult through the searing pain trying to rule my body, and I curled onto my side, gripping my chest while my veins lit on fire. Agony. Pure, undiluted agony.

  Shallow breaths caused my head to spin, but eventually the episode disappeared, leaving my body at a simmer instead of a blaze-and not the good kind.

  My eyes flew open, only to close again on a groan as the dim light I'd left on in my apartment scalded my retinas, blinding me.

  "So, this is heaven, then? Not going to lie, I was expecting something… different." I froze, my eyes flying open to land on a tall, muscular, very male stranger who was patting his hands down his chest, studying the barren walls of my studio apartment with lazy interest.

  Scrambling up in bed, I clutched my sheets up to my chin in one hand and fumbled along the side of my mattress for the knife I kept hidden for those 'just-in-case' moments. Breaking and entering definitely applied, and the steel of the knife glinted in the lamplight as I thrust it out in front of me, warning the stranger to stay away. Living in the rundown part of town was sure to have its dangers, but someone directly in my room was at the very top of my 'oh-shit' list.

  "I was expecting grander surroundings, but if you're included in my heavenly package, I'll definitely take it and count my blessings." The deep voice dripped of sinful intention and the guy had the nerve to send me a wink and a smirk that probably would have melted a less terrified woman in a second flat. As it was, my heart was nearly pounding out of my chest as I stared-speechless-at the man. He looked to be a few years older than myself, and he was outfitted in a white tee-shirt and dark denim jeans that hung off his hips in an enticing way. The white fabric clung to sculpted abs, and his brown hair was just long enough to fall into his eyes, but he kept it styled back and away from his face. Sharp cheekbones framed a pair of kissable lips, and his eyes were an eerie light blue. In fact, his whole appearance seemed otherworldly… and faded. If that wasn't enough to tip me off to something being very… very… wrong, the glowing blue aura around him would have been.

  What. The. Actual. Fuck.

  While I sat there deftly wielding my weapon, he studied me, his gaze traveling from my face down my body to the exposed leg that the sheet hadn't quite covered. In all my tossing and turning, my waitressing uniform-a teal dress that I hadn't stripped out of before passing out-had ridden up and was currently showing off a pair of white boy shorts. Tugging the cotton sheet over my body properly, I glared back at the man.

  "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?" I tried to steady my voice so I sounded confident, but I wasn't sure I accomplished the feat. He didn't seem at all intimidated by my sharp object, and I realized that my hand was shaking. I cursed my inability to stay cool, calm, and collected under pressure. Deep breath, and focus. I stilled the quiver, trying to embody the fearless look I was determined to pull off.

  The man threw his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. "Heaven's got an odd way of welcoming a newcomer." His brows drew together in a quizzical expression, and he dropped one hand back down to his chin, rubbing at his scruff lined jaw, "Then again, I wasn't always the best behaved… so perhaps this is Hell? Or some odd Purgatory?"

  "What in the world are you talking about?"

  The man's thick eyebrows furrowed further as his eyes met mine. He stalked forward, getting much too close for comfort, and-given how small my studio apartment was-crossed easily into my personal bubble of space in a matter of strides. My hand tightened around the cool metal handle of the blade, but that was as much direction as my brain sent to my hand. I leaned back as he reached for me, his eyes flicking down to his hand as he touched my shoulder. Cool tingles burst over my skin, and my eyes widened as his hand went straight through my body.

  "Oh, shit!" I screeched at the same time he said, "Fuck!"

  He backed up a few steps, and peered down at his hands, which were now straight out in front of him as he turned them over, finally noticing their faded ghostly hue and the glow that was reminiscent of a nuclear experiment gone wrong.

  "Are you a…" I couldn't say the words out loud, sure I was headed straight for the looney bin. My brain had
finally had enough and decided to take a vacation-possibly never to return.

  Dropping the sheet, I rubbed at my eyes with my free hand, willing myself to wake up.

  My white-knuckled grip on the knife loosened and I deflated, not sensing any real danger in the moment. The pounding in my chest lessened, returning to less heart attack inducing levels, and I took a minute to process, studying him while he was momentarily preoccupied.

  I should have known right away that something was terribly wrong. Now that I was calmer, I realized the universe was playing a cruel joke on me. The only way I'd ever have a man who looked like a Ralph Lauren model in my room was if he was a ghost-or in a magazine. O h my God, Liss. Get it together! You are not thinking about hot men right now.

  Nope. Just one man. One ghost. My own personal Casper, it seemed.

  "How the…" He paused in his curse, looking over at me as if to judge my feminine sensibilities, and I rolled my eyes as he changed directions. "...fudge… did this happen?"

  I shrugged. This conversation had to be the oddest I'd had in my entire life. "Do you belong to the house or something?" I asked, not sure if I believed what my eyes were so clearly seeing. It wasn't as if I was opposed to the idea of supernatural occurrences such as ghosts being real, but it was never something I'd wasted a lot of time thinking about. However, the property on which I resided sure looked old and ghostly enough, so it wasn't a huge leap to guess that he'd been here all long and this was simply the first time we'd seen each other. Although, I hadn't completely abandoned the idea that I was losing it, yet.

  "This place? Hell, no!" He looked around with a wince and then turned back with an apologetic expression contorting his features. "No offense, but this place is a dump."

  I looked around the one-room apartment, trying to see it as he did. Truthfully, it looked a lot better than it had when I'd first been handed the keys. While just about everything I had I'd brought with me or purchased from the local Sift and Thrift, I thought the implemented changes had added a personal touch to the place and given it a warmer appearance. A grey welcome rug sat near the front door, while a matching carpet runner covered the floor of my tiny kitchenette. The kitchen table was small and round, but adequate for the space, big enough to seat two people comfortably. I pursed my lips. It wasn't as though I would be hosting dinner parties. I didn't have many friends, and those I did have had been mutual friendships I'd gleaned from being Luca's sister. None of those people knew what to say to me now that he was gone. Hardship often made things awkward, and I couldn't blame people for their distance. The circumstances surrounding my brother's death didn't add up, and if my standoffishness hadn't pushed people away, the unsolved case would have. It didn't matter anyway. I'd never been as charismatic as my brother had been. Other than Jer, I was a loner and I'd made my peace with that fact a long time ago.

  However, none of the decorative touches I'd tried to make had transformed the drab room all that much. The walls were still sheets of plywood and bare insulation. The roof leaked, staining the open wooden ceiling, and there were cobwebs in the corners, their occupants refusing to be defeated by a duster.

  Taking a leap of faith, I placed the knife back between the wall and my mattress. Absently, I rubbed at the residual ache that had settled in my chest. Going from nightmare to pain to intruding ghost had my mind spinning and a wave of dizziness washed over me. I was exhausted. There was no better way to describe the bone deep weariness that came over me after an episode. I arched my back, trying to work out the knots that had formed, and felt a sting along my spine. The uniform had always been uncomfortable, and the zipper that ran down the length of my spine had probably left an impression as I'd slept. I snorted to myself. Slept was an overstatement.

  Throughout my inner monologue, Casper-as I decided to affectionately call him-wandered around my living space, but he turned quickly when I snorted, his lips quirking up on one side as his gaze slid over the disheveled look I was sporting.

  Pushing against the mattress with my palms, I hoisted myself off of the bed and stood, quickly pulling the fabric of my skirt back into place so as not to flash Casper more than necessary-not that he seemed to mind if the appreciative smirk was any indication. My cheeks heated.

  "So… um… thank you for stopping in?" My voice rose in pitch at the end of the question, and I tilted my head as I watched confusion light his eyes again.

  "I don't know how I'm here right now," he said, emotion adding a gruffness to his voice as he paced the six steps it took to cross my apartment. Pivot. Turn. Pace.

  "What do you mean?" The idea that ghosts may wander the earth lost and without peace truly bothered me. That concept didn't bode well for my grief ridden state, and I edged closer to the handsome stranger, hoping to lend him comfort and get some answers for myself. Just to make sure I was living in reality, I reached down and pinched the skin of my arm. It hurt, but it was worth it to be doubly sure I wasn't still dreaming.

  "I died." His gaze darted to mine and he froze in his pacing. "What day is it?"

  I rubbed up and down my arm as I mentally tallied the days. "It's July thirteenth."

  "Tonight. I died tonight." Casper ran a hand through his hair, resuming his pacing in a panicked frenzy. "I don't know what I'm doing here, but I need to get back!" As he spoke, his words got closer together-hurried. Rushing to the door, he reached for the knob but his hand fell right through metal causing him to stumble forward. I yelped as his head went careening through the door.

  He pulled himself upright and fully back inside.

  "Bloody hell," he cursed, and tentatively reached out, passing his entire forearm through the door. "Well, that's…" He blinked, lost for words, and I let out a semblance of a laugh.

  "Convenient." I finished for him with a shrug, trying to find the silver lining. Laughing felt as good as it did wrong. I hadn't laughed since the night the police showed up at the Mariner's front door.

  Looking over to me, he gave me a genuinely warm smile that sent my heart fluttering. I'd never experienced anything that could be described as 'flutters,' but the skipping sensation couldn't be described as anything less.

  Sharp, hot guilt ate at me, and I fidgeted as the ghost and I stared.

  "I'm sorry you died." It felt lame, but it was the best I could come up with. This conversation wasn't exactly in the realm of normal. At first, I wasn't sure he'd heard me because I'd spoken so quietly, but then his eyes softened. "Death isn't easy." I turned away and mumbled the rest. "For either side."

  "No, it's not. But I died protecting someone I love, and there's nothing more important than that." His throat was pure gravel and he cleared it, turning away to fake cough into his fist to cover the emotion. However, grief recognized grief, and it had my feet moving as I walked over to him. Carefully-unsure what would happen-I reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't until that moment that I realized how tall Casper was. He towered a full foot above me.

  I had to physically stop my hand from going through his body, holding it in place where it would have naturally stopped had he been solid instead of an apparition. I wasn't sure if he could even feel the touch, but the sentiment was there. His body was pure energy and the icy tingle of it chilled my palm. His pale eyes searched mine, and it seemed we connected on a visceral level. Something sparked between us, and I couldn't bring myself to look away. It was the most connected I'd felt to anyone in weeks, and yet the man standing before me was no longer alive. Like I said, death followed me like a depressing cloud.

  "You've lost someone." The observation was stated aloud, but it wasn't pity I found when I looked into his eyes. It was understanding. I nodded. "I'm sorry you're alone." I searched his face, findin
g only sincerity.

  "How'd you know I'm alone?" It was a fair question, although I had a feeling that he was rather perceptive. Not much escaped his notice.

  "Because there's no way anyone who loved you would let you live in such a place." His features hardened. "This room isn't even close to safe." He pointed out the shoddy wiring, the lack of drywall, and the bathroom that lent no privacy.

  I appreciated his honesty, and I had to agree with him. It didn't stop the comment from pricking at still bleeding wounds, however. Luca would never have let me live here, but I was doing the best I could with the cards I'd been dealt.

  "I'm doing the best I can." I reiterated aloud, and I wrapped my arms protectively around my stomach, closing down the conversation. Once I was able to save more money, I could find someplace better to live. If I could bring myself to sell the car, that would definitely help. As it was, sleeping in my car might have been the better option.

  Casper sighed and blessedly changed the subject. However, the new topic wasn't any better. "I don't know how I ended up here, and I'm not sure I'll be able to find my way back once I leave. I'm not exactly an expert on how all this… ghost… stuff works, yet." He flinched as he forced the word out.

  He was leaving. I drew a deep breath and let it out.

  "Go." I released him from any obligation he felt to stay, but he looked torn as he glanced from me to the doorway and back again.

  "Once I know he's safe, I'll try to come back." His brows lowered over his eyes again and I could see his brain trying to analyze the reason he'd said what he did. While I wouldn't admit it out loud, I felt an odd connection between us, and I wondered if he did as well.