The New Paranormal

by Jackson Tyler

  It wouldn’t have changed a thing.

  In high school, I tried to keep my head down. I studied diligently, made good grades, and didn’t make trouble. I was one of only four non-white students in the school, and one of two out LGBT students. On top of that, I was bigger than everyone else in our grade. I didn’t want any more attention drawn to me than there was already.

  “You make sense as a theater kid,” I said.

  “I wanted to be an actor,” said Isaac with a smirk. “This was the closest I could get.”

  “You’re an excellent actor,” I said. “You almost had me believing you, and I know you.”

  ***

  Isaac said he would manage going home alone, but I escorted him anyway. If the paranormal forces within the Cressley were gaining energy, as I suspected, he mightn’t be home alone at all.

  In a turn of good luck, Ben didn’t notice us darting through the lobby. As the elevator lurched upwards, I balled my hands into fists. Did Isaac feel no fear? He was living next door to a stairwell where a man had nearly died today.

  I steeled myself before entering 1405. Isaac unlocked the door, but I made him step aside so I could enter first. I was stronger and more experienced; I would be better equipped to handle any lurking danger.

  The first thing I noticed was how cold the room was. It had been gloomy outside, but it was colder in here.

  “It’s freezing,” said Isaac.

  “Did you leave a window open?” I asked.

  “Never. I can’t let Hannibal out.”

  With a click, he switched on the light.

  Now the cold was the least of my worries. The windows were open — every one of them so wide that the curtains whipped around in the wind. My EMF meter started going off from where it was, turned off, in my belt bag.

  Hannibal’s chair was stacked on top of the bed, and all the dishes in the kitchen had been taken out and spread on the floor like tiles. The sight of everything where it shouldn’t have been made my blood course like ice water. My heart pounded, and my hand instantly found my taser.

  “Did you do this?” I spun on my heels to look at Isaac. “Are you messing with me?”

  “No,” said Isaac through gritted teeth. “Someone must have been in here.”

  “Someone or something.” I trusted Isaac when he said he had nothing to do with this. He didn’t play these kinds of mind games. No way would he have ever opened them his windows that wide with his cat inside the room.

  “Hannibal?” Isaac called. “Hannibal, here kitty, kitty.”

  I stared at the windows. Isaac’s voice got increasingly more panicked until it was so tight his voice cracked.

  He looked up at me with wide, terrified eyes. So he did feel fear. “I can’t see him anywhere. Can you help me look?”

  I nodded and dropped to my knees.

  “Try not to disturb the scene,” I said.

  He looked at me, eyes like hot green coals. “My cat is missing. I will disturb whatever the hell I want.”

  I needed to sweep the room — especially with my EMF meter still screeching — but I knew better than to argue. “Hannibal?” I called.

  “He’s not in here.” Isaac sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “He must have gotten out, and- God, I should never have brought him here.”

  “We haven’t checked the bathroom,” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring way. Isaac was easier when he was cocksure. I didn’t know how to deal with emotions.

  Isaac was visibly shaking, eyes actually welling up. “If he’s not there, then- Then he’s gone, Roman. He can’t be gone.”

  I couldn’t bear to see Isaac this vulnerable. “I’ll look for you.”

  The door to the bathroom was closed. I held my breath as I opened it, praying that Hannibal would be inside and that he would be okay. Ghosts weren’t always kind to animals. I didn’t think I could stand watching Isaac’s heart break, but if the worst had happened, I needed to be the one to find it.

  The bathroom door opened with a yawning creak.

  An angry ball of black fur was sitting in the bathtub, eyes wide, fur sticking up like spikes on the back of his neck.

  “He’s in here!” I yelled at Isaac. “He’s okay!”

  Hannibal hissed at me.

  Isaac bolted past me faster than a human should have been able to move. He practically teleported.

  “Oh my god, Hannibal,” he choked. “I thought you were-”

  He scooped the cat from the bathtub. When Hannibal was in Isaac’s arms, he stopped hissing. His fur went down and his eyes, still wide, softened slightly. He clung his tiny claws into Isaac’s shoulders. Whatever he’d seen in here, it had terrified him.

  And it wasn’t gone yet. My EMF meter wailed in the next room.

  “Roman, can you close the windows?” asked Isaac. I noticed a well of tears in his eyes and turned away, half so I wouldn’t embarrass him, half because I was uncomfortable with emotion.

  “I should take photos of the room first,” I mumbled. “We’ve already interfered with some of the damage, but-”

  “Do it quickly,” said Isaac. I was surprised he didn’t argue. “And can you turn off the EMF meter? Hannibal hates the sound. It puts him on edge.”

  I was pretty sure that what was putting Hannibal on edge was the ghosts, but I left Isaac to cuddle his cat and process his feelings in the bathroom.

  The thin curtains billowed in the wind, strewing wayward shadows across the floor and walls of Isaac’s room. There had been no wind when Isaac and I were outside ten minutes ago. This was unnatural. My hair stood on end.

  The EMF meter screeched past my ears and made my brain throb. I got it. The readings were off the charts. I tried to turn the EMF meter off or at least turn the sound down.

  But it was already turned off and the sound wouldn’t stop.

  “Roman?” called Isaac. His voice was broken. “Could you turn off the EMF detector?”

  “I’m trying to!”

  Nothing worked. In the end, all I could do was wrap my jacket around it to muffle the sound. I held my taser in one hand, ready to react if something went wrong while I snapped pictures of the room in all its disarray.

  I called Isaac back in after I closed the windows.

  “It’s still freezing,” he said. His words came out in misty puffs of breath. He cradled Hannibal close to his chest.

  I nodded. “If anything, it’s getting colder.” We both knew without either of us saying anything that I wanted Isaac to leave for his own safety. And we both knew that he wouldn’t listen to me.

  “Can you hold Hannibal?” he asked. “I need to get a sweater.”

  I warily extended my arms. “Are you sure he won’t murder me?”

  “The worst he’ll do is maim you.”

  I took Hannibal. He bit me in the shoulder, hard. I held him tight. He struggled and yowled, but I couldn’t let him go, not unless we knew he would be safe.

  It took Isaac a long time to find a sweater.

  “That’s weird,” he muttered.

  “What’s weird?” I shifted Hannibal’s weight in my arms. He was soft and warm, and even though he hated me, I was enamored by how much he cared for Isaac. I had always liked cats.

  “I can’t find my sweater,” said Isaac.

  “Is it in your suitcase?” I asked.

  “It shouldn’t be,” he muttered, but he unzipped a duffel bag anyway. His brow creased as he pulled out a grey hoodie. “That’s weird.”

  “What’s weird?”

  “If I tell you are you going to go all… Roman?”

  “I’m all Roman all the time.”

  “True.”

  “So what’s weird?” I repeated.

  “My hoodie was in my bag,” said Isaac. He tugged the hoodie over his head.

  It was baggy on him, hanging low enough to hit him mid-thigh. Combined with those floaty pants of his, he was swimming in clothes. I knew Isaac was careful about what he wore. I hadn’t known him for long, but I
knew he made an effort to look self-assured and bohemian. Now there was an ordinary man in front of me — an ordinary, frightened, beautiful man. I would have done anything to soothe that fear off his face.

  Hannibal wiggled and hissed, almost leaping out of my arms.

  “He’s wiggly,” I said.

  “I’ll take him back now,” said Isaac.

  The moment I loosened my grip, Hannibal jumped back into Isaac’s arms. People claimed that dogs were the most loyal pets, but this cat was devoted to Isaac. And Isaac was devoted to his cat. He pressed a kiss right between Hannibal’s pointed ears, and Hannibal smiled a cheshire grin. Isaac’s face seemed to melt with relief.

  I hated the circumstances, but I liked seeing Isaac with his airs stripped away. Isaac was more than tie-dye, glittering rings, and sharp comebacks. He was as human as me. As I watched him with Hannibal, logic fled my mind. I should have been speaking, talking about the case, but words struggled to reach my lips. Isaac was putting me off my game.

  “Why is it a big deal that your clothes were in your bag?” I finally managed to say.

  “Because my bag was empty. I swear, it was completely empty. All my clothes were on the floor.”

  “I can believe that.”

  “But now look-” Wide-eyed, he pushed the bag toward me. It was full of neatly folded clothes. “I never fold my clothes. What the hell happened here?”

  Isaac looked lost. His precious logic couldn’t make sense of this. He could pretend everything else he experienced at the Cressley was his brain playing tricks on him, but he had to know his imagination couldn’t have redecorated his room on its own.

  “Spirits are known to rearrange furniture,” I said slowly. “And you should fold your clothes. It saves space.”

  He managed a small laugh. “If you say so, Roman.”

  Isaac had an exoskeleton of bravado and sarcasm, but on the inside, he was gooey and scared. I couldn’t bear it. I was used to being distracted by his flirtations, but his vulnerability caught me off guard. It was easier to be sidetracked by the temptation to rip off his clothes and suck his cock than it was to withstand my compulsion to wrap my arms around him, hold him tight, and promise he would be okay.

  What was wrong with me? Isaac’s emotions were none of my business. My job was to keep him safe, and I’d been doing that well enough so far.

  “Somebody wants you to leave this room,” I said. The suggestion cut my throat. If Isaac left, I had no way to get into the Cressley. If he left, I had no reason to see him ever again. “They packed for you. I suggest you listen.”

  Isaac chuckled to himself. “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.”

  “What?”

  “You know.” Isaac raised his eyebrows. “Ghostbusters?”

  “I’ve never seen it, and I don’t plan to.”

  “Dude!” said Isaac. “But you’re a ghostbuster-”

  “I am not. Those movies give us all a bad name. Like you can just bust a ghost-”

  Isaac cut me off. “Maybe someone human broke into this place. A really weird human.”

  I was grateful to return to normal conversation. “Are any of your things missing?”

  “Shit!” Isaac’s eyes bulged. He ran to his mattress and lifted a corner to uncover an envelope. He thumbed through the green notes inside, counting under his breath.

  I understood why people kept their money hidden like that. I only carried cash, thanks to a promise I made to Elliot years ago. One of Elliot’s mottos was: never trust a bank. Clearly Isaac had that motto too, but somehow, I had a feeling his reasons for keeping his money to himself were more nefarious. Isaac didn’t strike me as your average upstanding, taxpaying citizen.

  “It’s okay,” he said at last. “I still have all my money.”

  “What about all your other stuff?” I asked.

  “My other stuff is all in my bag,” said Isaac. “Packed.”

  “Good. You can check out immediately.”

  His mouth fell open. “I’m not leaving this hotel.”

  “Do you have a death wish?”

  “No death wish. I want to find out what’s going on here. Neither of us can do that if I check out.”

  How could I argue? I wasn’t a poster child for giving up on ghosts. But Isaac wasn’t like me. He was careless and impulsive. He could get himself killed. But if I made Isaac leave the Cressley, I’d have to give up too.

  “Fine. Stay. But I’m staying with you.”

  “You’re doing what?”

  “I’m staying with you. You’re not safe alone.”

  Isaac sank onto his bed and braced his head in his hands. “Are you serious?”

  “Very.”

  He sighed. “Could you please turn that off?” he asked. He pointed at my jacket on the chair across from the bed. The EMF meter was still going off. Even muffled, the sound was infuriating.

  “It won’t turn off,” I said.

  “Then can you take the batteries out?” asked Isaac.

  “It’s rechargeable.”

  “Then smash it.” He massaged his temples. “That sound is giving me a migraine.”

  “I’m not going to smash it. It’s worth hundreds. Elliot’s hundreds.”

  “At least take it outside. It didn’t start going off until we came into this room.”

  “That’s a surprisingly smart idea.”

  As if in protest, the EMF meter beeped more shrilly.

  Isaac grinned, the first real smile I’d seen since he feared he lost Hannibal. “I have my moments.”

  As soon as I left the room, the EMF meter turned itself off. It was sweet relief for my ears and rock-heavy terror for my gut. I took as little time as possible depositing the EMF meter in a potted plant across the hall.

  Back in 1405, silence sounded strange and unnatural. Phantom screams from the EMF detector rang in my ears.

  “Peace at last,” said Isaac.

  It didn’t feel like peace at all. The air was thick with menace. I felt as though there were eyes on the back of my neck.

  “I’m going to do some EVP recording,” I said.

  “That’s the thing where you talk to yourself, right?” said Isaac.

  I glared at him. “After finding your room like this on the same day as Mr. Partridge’s fall, I thought even you would be creeped out.”

  “You can be creeped out and make jokes at the same time.”

  I was too tense for much humor. “Human beings have instincts for a reason. If you’re getting creeped out, that’s a sign you should leave.”

  “Or it’s a sign that two conspiracy theorists have been putting ideas in my head.”

  “I’m not a conspiracy theorist.”

  “You believe in ghosts. And aliens. Or is that Elliot?”

  “Obviously we both believe in aliens. Who wouldn’t believe in aliens? The universe is infinite; we can’t be alone out there.”

  Isaac scoffed.

  “What do you get out of being such a skeptic?” I asked him. “I thought if you were so logical and agnostic, you’d be open to-”

  “I’m not agnostic,” said Isaac. “I’m an atheist.”

  I wasn’t particularly well-informed about the difference. “Okay.”

  “But you’re right about trusting my instincts,” Isaac continued. “I’m not afraid for myself, but I can’t leave Hannibal here.”

  “So you’ll check out?” I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

  “No.” His voice was firm. “I was hoping you could keep him safe at your place.”

  “You want me to take your cat?”

  “Pretty please. He’s not safe here.”

  I considered it. I would love to take Hannibal, but my nosy landlord didn’t allow pets. Besides, I had no space in my apartment — I had a trundle bed, a beer fridge for my fresh vegetables, and a microwave. I rarely used the microwave, preferring instead to make food with the expensive food processor Elliot had bought me a few birthdays ago.

  “Elliot’s house
is safer than my apartment,” I said. “And he’s home more often.” Especially because I would be spending my time here with Isaac for the foreseeable future.

  Isaac seemed to consider that while he scratched a purring Hannibal’s chin. “He would have lots of places to hide at Elliot’s. And he does love hiding. But are you sure Elliot would be okay with that? I barely know the guy.”

  I nodded. “He’s my best friend. He’s a bit weird, but he’s good with animals. He won’t let harm come to Hannibal. I promise.” It was the one promise I could make.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Isaac

  When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was Roman’s foot. Now, I wasn’t a foot guy. My fetishes were tame. I liked being thrown around and treated a little rough, but I was no bootlicker, and I didn’t want to get stomped on.

  Yet here I was. Thinking about feet. The tamest touch from Roman drove me wild. A desperate man had to take what he could get.

  Roman’s solid body occupied the ever-vacant left side of my bed. We were a respectable distance apart, but our feet had strayed overnight. I should have twitched away. Instead, I gingerly ran my toes over his coarse, calloused heels. He murmured deeply but otherwise didn’t stir. He was sound asleep.

  When I’d finally talked Roman into lying down last night, he insisted he wouldn’t fall asleep. He needed to protect me, he claimed, but those bags under his eyes were turning into heavy sacks. What he needed was a good night’s rest. Even the greatest warriors had to have their beauty sleep.

  I got the feeling Roman experienced more than his fair share of insomnia. The Cressley had gotten into my head after less than a month. Roman had worked here for three years. This hotel may or may not have been haunted, but it certainly possessed him.

  He had maintained his vigilance while I was awake, but at some point between then and now, he must have drifted into a deep sleep.

  Watching Roman breathe was a meditative experience. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, his breath steady as the tide. I was swept away. Roman’s presence was a surprising comfort, especially now that Hannibal was with Elliot and I was lonelier than ever.