Macyntire & Hough (A Paranormal Romance) (The Macyntire & Hough Saga)

by Franklin Kendrick

  Tadin was speechless. This was real. He was real — or at least as real as it was possible for a ghost to be.

  “Maris, I really don’t know how to thank you for this.”

  “Thank me by using the monitor,” Maris said. “It automatically records all the data I need so I can apply it to my future models. Hopefully I can start a chain one day or something. Who knows?”

  Tadin reached out and pulled some orange leaves from the tree. He crumpled them in his hands and watched the breeze carry the flecks away.

  “This is so amazing.”

  Maris put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

  “So, what are you going to do with your new-found physicality? Are you gonna make some moves on Shelley, finally?”

  Tadin’s neck went red at Maris’s grinning. Why did he always have such a dirty mind?

  “No,” he said. “Unlike you, I don’t want to scare my girl away.”

  “Oh — touché!” Maris clapped. “So, in other words, you have something suave planned?”

  Tadin glanced down the street at the bustling waterfront and nodded.

  “I do,” he said. “I just hope Shelley likes it.”

  Chapter Thirteen:

  Friday - 6:30pm

  “Kismiiit!”

  Tadin walked through the empty apartment looking for the cat. But, Kismit was nowhere to be found. It figured that whenever he wanted to be left alone, the dour creature slinked in — but, now that he really needed the cat, Kismit was gone.

  “Come on, cat...”

  He hated admitting that he needed that ball of fur. He was never a cat person in life, but for Shelley he made an exception. That didn’t change the fact that Kismit generally hated him.

  No, Shelley says, he thought. Kismit likes you. You just have to give him a chance.

  “Sure,” he muttered. “The damn thing claws my book collection, then hides from me. What do I have to do?”

  He needed to test his new solid state on a living, breathing, unpredictable creature before he could act on his plans with Shelley. He couldn’t think of a more unpredictable creature than Kismit.

  He stopped in the kitchen and put his hands on his hips.

  Would Kismit come for food? Was that enough to coax the beast into showing himself?

  Even if it didn’t work it was worth a try.

  The physicality monitor was secured on his belt and switched on. He reached into the cupboard for a can of cat food. At least I can hold a can, he thought. He made sure to clatter the thing against the counter, making as much noise as possible. He hoped it got Kismit’s attention.

  A can doesn’t move unexpectedly, he grimaced as he opened the can. He felt like he was using muscles even though there were none present.

  “Come on, Kismit,” he called. “There’s food! Don’t you want food, you fat cat?”

  Kismit poked his head sheepishly around the corner at the smell of food. The slop in the bowl looked disgusting, but Kismit hurried to it when Tadin placed it on the floor.

  “That’s it,” Tadin snuck quietly behind Kismit. “Eat up and never mind me...”

  He reached down to Kismit’s back, fingers flexing, ready to snatch up the kitty. With his hands carefully in position, he scooped Kismit into a vice-like grip. The cat howled and tried to squirm away, but Tadin was too strong and he clutched Kismit to his chest.

  “It works!” he said, struggling to keep Kismit still. “I’m holding you!”

  Kismit glowered up at him. From all the looks that the cat gave him, he swore the cat understood English.

  It’s really working!

  Tears welled in his eyes and he blinked them away. He hadn’t felt real tears in decades, even with his spiritual body. That was all the machine’s doing.

  “Thank-you, Maris,” he said.

  It was really going to work.

  As he went over his plans in his mind, Kismit wriggled a paw free and swiped it at his chin. The tiny needle-like claws caught his face and sank deep. He cried out at the sudden pain and hurled the cat away.

  Kismit went flying and landed gracefully on his feet and scurried away to the living room.

  Tadin nursed the marks where the claws had sliced him.

  Real marks.

  It felt just like having a body again. The tiny cuts disappeared after a moment, however, and he was back to normal.

  The time was right. He could finally take the first steps towards a real relationship with Shelley. The entire time he knew Shelley, he’d never left the apartment. The only exception was to hang up the sign the other night. They could go exploring outside!

  Now he wasn’t under house arrest any more. He was free to roam the physical world without worry of being found out.

  He would take Shelley out on a real date. As far as money was concerned, he had a little bit stashed away. The only question was timing.

  He imagined Shelley would be exhausted after work later. The last thing he wanted was to make her even more exhausted. There was still one more work day to go before their day off.

  The date had to be on a night where Shelley could sleep in the next morning.

  That left only one option: Saturday night.

  “That should work,” he said, reassuring himself. “It will be fun. It can bring us closer together.”

  He liked the idea of that.

  Still, he had no idea where they were going to go. He hadn’t gone out to eat since the nineteen-seventies. Plus, he had no idea what they would do if a demon crossed their path.

  But, what are the odds of that happening? In the middle of a crowded night on the town?

  Any demon would be crazy to attack them in a busy setting with so many witnesses. Besides, he already had a leg up with this physicality monitor. He could defend Shelley if he needed to. Up until today he was only able to defend himself against demons. If one of them had a physical body that was too tough to fight, he just ran. But, now he could actually fight back.

  “No,” he said. “Things are about to change.”

  He needed to practice some moves.

  “I hope you’re ready for some data, Maris, because I’m going on a date,” he said, smiling. “I’ll test this thing to its limits.”

  Chapter Fourteen:

  Friday - 5:00pm

  Haures crossed Congress Street, busy as always, and made his way along the brick-laid sidewalk against the State Theater Building. He carried a rolled piece of canvas, tied in the middle with a ribbon. The wind tugged at it, but Haures gripped it tight to keep it from being tugged into the street and run over. Once he made it to the other side the wind was buffered by the building and he held the canvas loosely.

  The hulking stone building dwarfed all the structures around it. This place was a haven for artists. Numerous posters and artwork was displayed in every window. Haures felt like he knew the labyrinthine corridors better than anyone in the city. It took him years to track down a glass sculptor who could create art with the high standards that he demanded. When it came to storing his soul collection, there was no room for imperfection.

  The entrance hall was shockingly small for a building so large. Haures passed a tiny gift shop and approached the ancient gilded elevator. The carriage was elsewhere on another floor, so he pressed the call button.

  He was glad the elevator wasn't immediately available. He enjoyed watching the intricate doors slide open, draped in mirrors and fancy metalwork. The carriage arrived and he stepped on board, selected the fourth floor, and the doors closed.

  Everything trembled as he was pulled upwards. He inhaled before looking around the carriage. Nothing seemed to be unusual. He expected to see Courtney appear, but there was no sign of the poltergeist anywhere. For once, he was truly alone on the elevator trip.

  It was a short walk to Fehling Glassworks once he arrived on the fourth floor. The trip took him around a sharp corner and down a few doors. If he didn't know that the tiny studio was there, it might have been invisible or nonexistent. He was Fehli
ng's most reliable patron, so as long as he had his own job collecting souls, the place was never in danger of going under.

  The doorway was simple, made of smoked glass with black lettering painted at eye level. Haures pushed the door open with a long, low creak.

  The sitting area was comprised of old velvet chairs and a coffee table. A lamp filtered light through the room, illuminating the dust motes that danced around the space. A long wall-to-wall counter separated the customer area from the actual workspace. A shade was hung from the ceiling above that counter and reminded Haures of a bank curtain. CLOSED was printed on the curtain in the same neat script as the front door.

  Haures barely had time to sit down before Jonathan Fehling appeared behind the counter.

  “Haures!” he wiped his red hands off with a dirty rag. “I didn't know you were stopping by! Don't tell me Pyro neglected to tell you that I gave him your latest shipment?”

  “He told me,” Haures waved a hand dismissively.

  “Oh, good,” Fehling said, wiping some sweat from his brow before examining the rag in his hands. “There wasn't an issue with it, was there?”

  “No, those were fine. I just need two more. I apologize for the short notice.”

  “You’re lucky I don't have any customers right now,” Fehling said. He reached beneath the counter and took out two glass spheres the size of oranges. “I just turned the oven off and it would have been a real pain in the ass to start it back up again. Doing things the traditional way is so much work. When do you need these by?”

  “Tonight, if you can,” said Haures. He knew that Fehling wouldn't say no. The man was as reliable as the passage of time when it came to finishing acquisitions. He was quick with his hands.

  “Tonight?” Fehling glanced at his watch with a pained expression. However, the man opened the gate in the counter and briskly locked the door and dimmed the lights. “If I'm going to work with my hands it's best if we aren't disturbed.”

  Haures grinned.

  “You’ve always been paranoid,” he teased.

  “Justifiably!” Fehling returned to his place behind the counter and moved the first glass orb to a side station. A large plate of vermiculite was used to hold the newly-sculpted glass pieces while they cooled. “You heard about Darlene, didn't you?”

  Haures raised his brows. He had not.

  “She crafted jewelry down on the second floor. The whole place was decked out with blowtorches and refinery equipment, as if she ever used any of those except for show.” He folded his arms on the counter as he gossiped. “Well, anyway, she was caught by a mortal cursing a few of the items with her bare hands — flames and all — and the stupid teenager got away! Can you believe it? Needless to say, she had her position revoked and now there's someone else stationed in her place. I felt bad, but at the same time, can you imagine what rumors like that would do to a place like this? None of us stationed here would be able to do any work with a stigma floating around.”

  “Luckily for us it hasn't come to that point,” Haures reached to his side and picked up the roll of canvas. “What happened to the teenager?”

  “She was struck by a car crossing the street,” Fehling motioned to the window behind him. “She didn't die, but she is in a coma. We have the Watchers to thank for that.”

  “Indeed,” Haures got to his feet and unrolled the canvas. He handed it to Fehling who laid it out on the counter and studied it.

  “This is one of the subjects?” he asked.

  “It is. His name is Tadin Hough.”

  “So this is the renegade?”

  Fehling ran his finger along the painting. His eyes squinted beneath graying eyebrows.

  “He’s been hiding out for a while, hasn't he?”

  Haures returned to his seat and nodded.

  “More years than I care to admit,” said Haures. “The other person is a girl living in town. Shelley Macyntire. I trust you have a picture of her in your catalogue?”

  “Of course. Corporate automatically adds anyone living in the city.”

  Fehling took one last glance at the painting and went to work on the glass globe. His hands glowed red like a stove wire. He pressed them against the glass and it melted like butter. Trickles of liquid rolled down to the workstation and he scooped them up with his thumbs.

  “Can you believe I have to tell people that my hands have a skin condition?” Fehling said. “One customer suggested I wear gloves to avoid questions. I say the big whigs should have made me a better body.”

  “You know how it is, though,” Haures added. “Humans are full of imperfections. If we were too perfect, then people would become suspicious.”

  “I suppose that's true.”

  Fehling worked in silence for a moment before speaking again.

  “It must be a lot of pressure, trying to catch Tadin’s soul after so long.”

  “I’ve had a few letters about it, yes,” he crossed his legs. “Their thinking is that if I can't capture this one soul, all the newer deaths are pointless. As if any of it is easy, whatever the timetable.”

  Fehling nodded.

  “Do you ever fear that you'll be replaced?”

  Haures gave a feeble smile.

  “All the time,” he said. “If there's one thing I've learned in all my years on the surface it's that nobody is irreplaceable. I have vivid nightmares that my superiors come to the penthouse and strip me of my title. You've seen it done to Darlene. It only takes one misstep and you’re back down with the rest of the dregs. There's nothing worse than being demoted, in my opinion.”

  “Being sent to the outer darkness is the most detestable thing there is, I think.” Fehling finished the sculpture and set it down to cool on the vermiculite.

  Haures stood again and walked over to examine the figurine. It was unmistakably Tadin. He wasn't surprised, knowing Fehling's skill at glass sculpting.

  “Let it sit for a few minutes before touching it,” Fehling said as he worked on Shelley's sculpture.

  “It’s perfect,” Haures grinned. “And you made such a fuss about fitting me in.”

  “It still needs a stopper,” Fehling burrowed his fingers into what would become Shelley's eye sockets. “Then it’s finished.”

  Fehling worked for ten more minutes before Shelley's figurine was dipped into the bath and set beside Tadin's.

  Such a happy couple, Haures thought. That will be over soon. They can be happy on my shelf awaiting shipment down below.

  Attaching the silver stopper to the base was the trickiest part of making the figurines because it required a gentle hand to avoid cracking the glass. Unsurprisingly, Fehling was finished within the hour and Haures happily tucked the two works of art into his felt-lined briefcase. He secured them in place with ribbons that snapped on either side.

  “How much do I owe you?” he asked, preparing to cringe at any number Fehling demanded.

  “Because of the rush job, six hundred each.”

  Haures put on his poker face and reached into his wallet.

  “You’re an expensive artist,” he said. “You’re lucky they pay me well down below.”

  He handed Fehling the crisp hundred dollar bills and the man counted each one before tucking them in his pocket.

  “Demons need to pay the rent too,” he motioned to the space with a red hand. “If we're not working for money, then what are we working for?”

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Haures said as he rolled the painting back into a tube and tied it with the ribbon. “It sure as Hell isn't respect. Pyro barely listens to me any more. I think the most helpful thing he's done lately has been tracking down Tadin.”

  “He’s restless,” Fehling wiped his hands with the rag again, the same as he did when Haures walked in. “Maybe he wants to climb up the chain of command. Who knows?”

  Haures forced a smile and picked up his things.

  “To him, I say good luck with that.”

  Fehling laughed. “Just keep doing your job and you won't hav
e to worry about that troublemaker creeping in on your territory.”

  “That’s what I'm going to do,” Haures nodded. “Not only that, but the Macyntire girl is going to be a gift of confidence to Corporate, proving that I'm not getting rusty in my old age. Hopefully they'll be impressed.”

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” Fehling bid him farewell, and Haures closed the studio door.

  This is it, he thought as the elevator took him back to street level. This is my last chance. I can feel it, even if they won't tell me it's the truth. If I fail at getting these souls...

  He didn't want to think about that. He shook the entire idea from his mind and tried not to think of anything but his inevitable success the entire walk back to Achaia.

  Chapter Fifteen:

  Saturday - 5:30pm

  Tadin spent the rest of the afternoon coming up with a plan of attack. It was foolish to think that romance and attraction could be accelerated with scheduling, but, he knew that whatever he did — dinner, a movie on the couch, whatever — he had to do it fast. Shelley needed to trust him wholeheartedly before he dropped the bomb that he was a wanted ghost. The first thing to do was figure out how well he knew her.

  This was extremely tricky. He’d known her for three years, but what did she like to do outside the apartment? That was a mystery.

  He looked around the surprisingly sparse bedroom for some sort of hint. The only things that struck him immediately were the books on the bookcase. Maybe there were some ideas in those paperbacks.

  He grabbed the first one off the shelf and turned it over. He guffawed at the cover.

  “Perfect,” he said.

  On the cover was a young, attractive couple standing in the rain. The girl’s mouth open, her hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy was drop-dead handsome. Tadin didn’t feel he could really compete with that. True, the boy on the cover was probably a model, and heavily made up, but still! The boy’s thick arms were wrapped around the girl’s tiny waist.