You’re the One That I Haunt

by Terri Garey

  “It wasn’t my fault,” Joe said tersely, plucking his sopping clothes away from his body. “Tell her it wasn’t my fault.”

  “She can hear you,” I whispered, trying my best to keep my cool. I was on my feet, too. People were staring, the couple sitting at the table next to us brushing stray drops of coffee from their table and shooting us dirty looks.

  Joe held his wet shirt away from his skin, keeping his voice low. “There was nothing I could do. She was severely bulimic, obviously anorexic. She’d taken an extralarge amount of an over-the-counter emetic, and the resulting electrolyte imbalance stopped her heart. It had been too long, and her body was too weak to respond to defibrillation…”

  “Joe”—I held up a hand—“speak English. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Neither does he,” Crystal sneered. “Stupid doctors. They all think they know so much.” She stuck her face up close to his, though he couldn’t see her, and shouted, “Bullshit! It’s all bullshit! You don’t know me!”

  The next thing I knew, Joe was stumbling backward. He bumped the table behind us, knocked over an empty chair, and landed flat on his ass on the sidewalk.

  “How’s that for weak?” Crystal shouted, though no one could hear her but me. She lifted a bony middle finger toward Joe in the universal gesture of contempt.

  Joe didn’t see the finger—he was still on the sidewalk, shocked and covered with coffee, and couldn’t have seen it anyway. The people around us were all staring and making concerned noises to each other, like a flock of disturbed pigeons.

  Amy, the girl behind the counter at Moonbeans, craned her neck to check out the commotion. “Nicki? Everything okay out there?”

  “Everything’s fine, Amy. An accident.” I knelt to help Joe to his feet, ignoring Crystal for the moment. “You okay?” I murmured, more freaked by the girl’s sudden violence than I’d like to admit. I’d seen spirits manipulate objects before, but this chick was nuts. Dead, but still nuts.

  Joe nodded sourly, scanning the empty air for an attacker he couldn’t see.

  I could see her, though, and she creeped me out. Dirty blond hair to her shoulders, shoved carelessly behind her ears. Her arms and legs were so thin they looked like sticks.

  Crystal took a step closer.

  “Leave us alone,” I hissed, very conscious of the fact that people were watching. As far as they were concerned, I was talking to thin air.

  “Make me,” Crystal said, and smiled an ugly smile. And I do mean ugly—her teeth were bad. Yellowish brown with stains, bright red gums.

  Yuck.

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  I froze, knowing that smoothly sexy male voice all too well.

  “My, my. What a mess you’ve made, Nicki. Boyfriend trouble, I hope?”

  I looked up, heart sinking, to see the sexiest lying bastard I’d ever met. Bright blue eyes, sun-streaked blond hair, killer grin, and cheekbones to die for. Today he wore low-slung jeans with a heavy silver wallet chain, black T-shirt.

  Black, to match his shriveled heart.

  Joe rose to his feet, me along with him. “Friend of yours, Nicki?”

  I clutched Joe’s arm for courage. “No. Sammy is no friend of mine.”

  Joe immediately shifted, putting a shoulder between Sammy and me. Though they’d never met, Joe knew all about the man standing before us—including the fact that Sammy wasn’t really a man.

  He was a demon.

  The demon, in fact.

  Satan. The Devil. The Evil Big Kahuna.

  Sammy, known as Samael to the legions of Hell. He’d shown up not long after my near-death experience, making it clear he wanted me on his side; a lover, a partner, a “soldier for his army.”

  He wanted me to send the spirits who came to me to the Dark, to keep them away from the Light.

  But I couldn’t do that.

  “My reputation precedes me, it seems.” Sammy gave a broad smile. He stuck out his hand, for all the world like one regular guy meeting another. Black and silver gleamed—a ring with a star-shaped pattern on his middle finger. Pentagram, black T-shirt…the guy was ingenious. He hid in plain sight. “You must be Joe.”

  Joe stiffened, ignoring the proffered hand. “Get the hell away from us.”

  “Hell is so boring this time of year,” Sammy said cheerfully. “I like it better here.”

  Crystal laughed, making me jump. All sharp angles and jutting bones, she reminded me of a scarecrow, right down to the straw-like hair. The planes of her face were so sharp, the muscles so stretched. Creepy.

  “I see you’ve met my friend, Crystal,” Sammy said, his wicked grin widening to a sneer. “Lovely, isn’t she?”

  Joe’s muscles were tight beneath my palm.

  “What do you want, Sammy?” As if I didn’t know.

  Sammy took his time answering, sending me a look that would’ve scorched paint right off the wall.

  Silken sheets and strong thighs…heat and desire, hard flesh between my legs and a mouth on my nipples…

  I knew what the horny bastard was doing—he was putting thoughts in my head. Those wicked blue eyes of his had a way of making me want to do things. Bad things. Naughty things.

  I squeezed Joe’s arm, tight. If I gave in to this particular fatal attraction, I’d be screwed, in more ways than one.

  Yet the attraction was there.

  Taking the devil by the horns, I switched off the porno movie going on inside my head by asking, “Is Crystal one of your new recruits?”

  “I prefer the word ‘protégé.’” Sammy shrugged, untroubled by my directness. “My new apprentice, if you will.” He raised a pair of cool old RayBan shades and held them to the sun, checking for smudges. “No need to be jealous, Nicki…unless you’re having second thoughts about turning down the job.”

  He gave me a wicked smile. Evil personified, yet I couldn’t help but be drawn to him. Answered to no one, feared no one, did as he pleased. Flawed, yet glorying in his imperfections—his raw sexuality was a huge temptation, and he knew it, dammit.

  “Nicki doesn’t want anything to do with you,” Joe said, his tone harsh. “Leave her alone.”

  His protectiveness was comforting, but scared me, too. Joe might not be afraid to go head to head with a demon from Hell, but what could he do against a creature like Sammy? Didn’t he know how vulnerable he made himself?

  Sammy looked at Joe coolly, then gave him the ultimate insult by dismissing him entirely.

  “Patience is a virtue, Nicki,” Sammy said to me, as though Joe were invisible. “One of the few I seem to have in my possession.” Then he laughed softly, shaking his head. “Possession. Oh, I do love that word.”

  Joe slipped his arm around my waist, jaw set. “Let’s go, Nicki.” He had three days’ worth of stubble on his chin, and he smelled like coffee and sweat, anger barely held in check. His self-control was obviously at its limit.

  “Everything okay out here?” It was Amy, studs glinting, eyes gleaming, having left her post behind the register to come out on the sidewalk. Her tone was far too cheerful, and when I saw the smiling looks she was shooting Sammy, I understood why.

  She was so checking him out. I knew Amy hadn’t had a boyfriend in a while, and I also knew she wasn’t shy about meeting new guys. Sammy probably looked like fresh meat to a starving lioness.

  “Omigod—you’re soaking wet.” Amy grabbed a couple of napkins from a nearby table and thrust them at Joe, making a total production out of everything. “Are you okay?”

  Joe ignored the napkins, never taking his eyes from Sammy. “Fine.”

  “He’s fine,” I echoed.

  “Um…” Amy gave me an eye roll in Sammy’s direction, the girly equivalent of a request for an introduction. She seemed oblivious to the tension in the air.

  Trapped between Sammy, Joe, and a bony, hostile ghost, I had a sudden, insane urge to giggle. Amy, this is Satan…Satan, this is Amy.

  Joe saved me from making a fool of mysel
f by taking my elbow. “C’mon, Nicki.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Once again, though I’d almost forgotten her, Crystal Meth stepped in front of us, grinning that ugly grin.

  Shit.

  Joe urged me forward, but I tugged my elbow free, giving him a desperate look.

  I couldn’t just walk through her. That would be gross in ways I couldn’t even contemplate.

  Crystal stared at me defiantly, daring me with her eyes.

  She knew I didn’t want to touch her.

  She even had the nerve to get cocky, crossing sticklike arms over her concave middle.

  Skinny bitch.

  “You look familiar.” Amy wasn’t giving up the chance to talk to a hottie like Sammy, and went for the direct approach. “I think I’ve seen you here a few times.” She was smiling at him, unaware that standing right next to her dream lover was an angry, emaciated ghost.

  “What a fat pig,” Crystal said, shooting Amy a venomous glance. No one could hear her but me. “Friend of yours, Chubby Cheeks?”

  Chubby Cheeks? Me?

  Distracted, I opened my mouth to warn Amy away, but Sammy spoke first.

  “I’m Sammy Divine, the new owner of Divinyls.”

  Amy’s face lit up. “Oh, you’re the guy opening the indie music store across the street!” She was practically drooling.

  In a way, I couldn’t blame her, because Sammy was hot.

  As in hot.

  “Cool.” Amy quirked a heavily studded eyebrow, tucking her hands into her back pockets in the quintessential “boob display” of the red-blooded American female. “Exactly what we needed in Little Five—there aren’t enough good music stores around here. You should get with Moonbeans and do some cross-promoting or something.”

  I’d known this was coming, but I’d tried to forget about Divinyls…like if I ignored it, it would go away. The store across the street had been vacant for months. I’d tried to forget that Sammy was determined to insinuate his way into my life. Into my neighborhood. Into my head.

  I took comfort in the fact that my sister, Kelly, was safe in Savannah, learning from our grandmother how to resist him.

  Grandmother…grandfather…whatever. In a family like mine, a seventy-year-old transvestite psychic grandparent was practically tame.

  “Nicki, let’s go,” Joe murmured.

  “I can’t,” I whispered. “Crystal’s still here. She’s blocking me.”

  Sammy and Amy were chatting it up like old pals. “Divinyls was voted best alternative music store in Savannah five years running, vinyls and CDs,” he said. “But it was time to expand, explore new horizons.” He gave Amy a devastating smile, a tilt of his streaked blond head. He was wearing it longer these days. “And you are?”

  Amy was putty in his hands. Pierced, studded, and tattooed putty.

  “Amy.” Melted putty. “My name is Amy.”

  “Well, Amy”—Sammy smiled at her like she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen—“that’s a beautiful rose tattoo on your neck. Very sensual.”

  She blushed, her tattoo turning a bluish purple.

  “I’m filming a commercial for my new shop, and I’d love to use some of the locals. Would you like to be in it?”

  “A commercial? On TV? Cool.”

  Oh, he was good. I had to give him that.

  “Just some advertising for the new store—thought I’d shoot it right here on the sidewalk. Little Five Points is such a”—Sammy glanced around, taking in the murals, the shops, the tourists, the freaks, the stoners, the punks and the pin-striped—“such a unique neighborhood. Great setting for a commercial.”

  And just like that, a guy with a video camera on his shoulder stepped up from somewhere behind Sammy. I honestly didn’t know whether he’d been there all the time or just magically appeared. Either way, his camera was rolling, and he was taking footage of the storefronts along Moreland, scanning the sidewalk with his lens.

  Another guy appeared, holding a long black stick with a microphone on the end.

  Sammy turned his bright blue gaze to Crystal, the Invisible Walking Stick. He smiled at her, intimately, as though they were old friends. “Do you remember our agreement?”

  Anyone who heard him would assume he was talking to me.

  Crystal’s bony edges seemed to soften. Her form wavered once, like a mirage. “I do, Master.”

  “Then let it begin.” Sammy looked me directly in the eye, ignoring Joe, Amy and the anonymous coffee drinkers who watched us curiously over their overpriced cappuccinos and flavored lattes.

  “Showtime,” he said.

  And just like that, the guy holding the camera swung it in my direction. The guy with the microphone came in closer, standing right next to Crystal, though he couldn’t see her. Crystal ignored him, smiling her ugly smile and waiting for me to get the gist of what was about to happen.

  Enlightenment dawned, but it was too late. Her image wavered again, coalescing into a strip of fog, writhing and coiling, as thin as Crystal herself. Quick as a snake, the fog shot straight toward me.

  I would’ve fallen, would’ve shouted, would’ve screamed—but terror rendered me frozen, and a sudden, shocking awareness of my own body rendered me dumb.

  Because I could feel her there.

  She was inside me, all bones and sharp edges, stealing my breath and poking her way into every nook and cranny, every joint, every blood vessel, spreading like a cancer.

  “Nicki?” Joe’s concerned face swam before my eyes, but I couldn’t answer.

  You feel me, don’t you, Chubby Cheeks? Crystal’s voice whispered inside my head. The Master has given me power.

  To my horror, I heard myself chuckle, as though my body was in on the joke.

  Power over you.

  I swayed, and felt Joe’s arms come around me. Instead of giving me comfort, his touch made me claustrophobic.

  “Let go of me,” I snapped. The hurt look on his face tore my heart, but I couldn’t stop myself. “You murdering bastard.”

  No one was more shocked to hear those words come out of my mouth than I was.

  The camera rolled, Amy gaped, Sammy smiled, and Joe stood like a statue. There was a rush of wind in my head, a blast of ice and fury.

  “You killed her,” I said. “Crystal Cowart had her whole life ahead of her, and you killed her.” My throat was tight, neck stiff, as I struggled to keep the words from spewing forth. But they just kept coming. “You told me so yourself, not two minutes ago. You didn’t do anything to save her. You should be arrested for murder.”

  I managed to take a breath, gasping for air and fighting for control over my body.

  You can’t win, Chubby Cheeks. Crystal’s voice whispered in my ear. The Master is on my side.

  Another blast of cold rage overwhelmed my brain. “Dr. Joe Bascombe, attending physician at Columbia Memorial Hospital.” My arm shot out, stiffly, finger pointing at Joe. “You killed Crystal Cowart.”

  “Nicki, you’re not yourself.” Joe’s jaw was set, face somber. “Let me take you home.”

  “Hold on.” Sammy stepped forward. “My lady friend here just accused you of murder. I don’t think she should be going anywhere with you.”

  His lady friend? I wanted to laugh, but my body wasn’t my own anymore.

  Joe’s temper flared. “Leave us alone!” He rounded on Sammy, glaring at the cameraman and the guy holding the microphone, too. “And get that camera out of my face.”

  “Hold on there, buddy,” said Sammy, raising his hands. “No need to get violent.”

  This was a nightmare—Crystal seethed within me, her anger leaving me rigid. I fought her as hard as I could, biting my lip and willing her to leave my body.

  “I’m fat,” I heard myself say. “I’m a fat pig with chubby cheeks. My name is Nicki Styx, and I’m a fatty, fat, fat, fat.”

  Amy—who I’d forgotten about—choked back a laugh, covering her mouth with both hands. Beside her, Sammy barely hid a grin, and their amusement infuriated me.


  It was my body, dammit. Not hers. And there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with it.

  I was not fat.

  “I pretend like I’m so cool and hip and gothic,” I went on, like a ventriloquist dummy at the State Fair, “but I’m really just a pathetic loser. Oh, and dead people talk to me.” My cheek muscles lifted in a grotesque semblance of a smile. “Come visit me down in Little Five Points, and I’ll help you speak with your lost loved ones. I’m channeling right now, in fact. Crystal Cowart has more to say, and I am merely her vessel.”

  Okay, that’s it.

  No hateful little bag of bones with an imaginary axe to grind against my boyfriend was going to make me play the fool.

  Grimly, in my mind and in my heart, I fought Crystal’s possession. She poked and jabbed at the edges of my psyche, at my very soul, but I closed my eyes, concentrating. There came a sudden rush of sound in my ears, like wind and rain through an open window, and in that instant, I knew I’d won. Sensation flooded me, all of it my own. Un-prepared for the suddenness of Crystal’s exit, my knees buckled.

  Joe caught me before I hit the ground, and this time, I didn’t push him away. I clung to him like a drowning man clings to a life preserver.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” I gasped, “that wasn’t me. I would never have said those things. It was Crystal.” I was completely drained. My head felt too heavy for my neck, so I let it fall against him.

  Joe’s jaw clenched, and he didn’t answer, but his hands were gentle. His arm was warm and strong against my back as he drew me closer.

  “Let’s just go,” he murmured, and before I could blink, he slipped his other arm beneath my knees and swung me high against his chest.

  Dr. Bascombe was in the house, and I was more than happy to let him take charge.

  “Well, there you have it, folks.” Sammy gestured at the cameraman to turn the camera in his direction. “Another one of the eclectic characters in this wonderful little Atlanta neighborhood called Little Five Points.”

  He didn’t pay any attention as Joe swept me off down the sidewalk, training all his bright blue charm on the camera.

  “That was Nicki Styx, owner and manager of Handbags and Gladrags, a cool little vintage store right here in Little Five.”