“Ah. Well, those messages are police business too, remember.” I nodded my understanding. “But if you should happen to run across an exotic young woman with silver hair, call me immediately.”
“It’s probably a wig,” I pointed out. Or regular succubus hair.
“Very likely. If you do see her, do not try to follow her or stop her, understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Until I was sure Dara would be safe, there was no way I’d turn Lilith in, as much as I really wanted to.
“Good.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to go through my emails and then head to bed. I want to get an early start. Do you and Melissa have any plans for tomorrow?”
She’s planning to have her way with me and I’m planning to avoid her for as long as possible. “We’re supposed to meet up for dinner.”
“Good,” he nodded. “She’s a very impressive young woman, I have to say. She knows what she wants and she has a good head on her shoulders.”
And absolutely nothing on at all below them. “Yeah, that’s Melissa,” I sighed. I hoped she made it home all right.
“All right, well, don’t stay up too late,” he told me, nodding to the TV. “You need to start packing up your things.”
“Yeah,” I said glumly. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
Dad left and shut the door behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Most of them had a common theme: Melissa picking out a blouse this morning, Melissa taking off her tights, Melissa standing in our kitchen in her bra, Melissa “accidentally” dropping her panties on the street, Melissa driving home in the nude.
Oh my God, I realized in dismay, all that happened today! If Daraxandriel really is making Melissa to do all this, how bad are things going to get tomorrow?
I eyed the folded comforter on the chair beside me but there was no way I was going to get any sleep with those images rolling around in my head. I needed something to distract myself.
I perused the DVDs, trying to find some mindless entertainment that would allow my brain to run on cruise control for a while. I almost chose the next Avengers movie but I figured Olivia would probably want to watch that at some point, so I picked out something with robots instead.
Robots aren’t sexy, I told myself, cuing it up. This will be exactly what I need.
It only took about ten minutes for the movie to remind me that, although robots aren’t sexy, the lead actress definitely was. It was a PG-13 flick, so all it showed was some cleavage and a lot of bounce as she fled from one crisis to the next with the hero, but her hair was dark like Melissa’s and their lips were disturbingly similar.
My phone pinged again in the middle of a CGI-heavy battle scene and I paused the movie to check my messages, almost dreading what I might find. It was from Melissa again: Getting ready for bed. Thinking of you!
There was another attachment and my finger shook a bit as I touched the icon. I squeezed my eyes shut and then just opened them a crack, as if that would somehow protect me from whatever the image showed.
It was another selfie, showing Melissa looking up at the camera with wide, winsome eyes and a shy smile, a portrait of innocence completely at odds with the fact that she was kneeling in a bathtub filled to the brim with bubbles, dripping wet and completely naked except for a few strategically-placed dabs of foam.
“Oh God,” I groaned. Forget Wednesday, I’m not even going to make it through the night.
“Peter?”
“Gah!” I flailed my arms and scrabbled to the far end of the couch before I realized Olivia was standing there, startled by my reaction. I grabbed my chest to keep my racing heart from bursting through my ribcage. “Don’t do that!” I told her breathlessly. “Make some noise or something first!”
“Sorry,” she said contritely. “I tried knocking but my hand went right through the door. So what were you looking at?” I’d dropped my phone on the couch in my frantic scramble and she craned her neck around to look at the display. “Is that –?”
“No!” I grabbed the phone and fumbled around for the power button, finally shutting off the screen. “It’s nothing important. So,” I said with forced cheerfulness, “you’re back! I guess Dara’s finally asleep, huh?”
“Yeah, she and Lilith were in bed again when I appeared or whatever you call it.” She looked around and frowned at the paused image on the TV. “What are you watching?” she asked doubtfully.
“Nothing important, I was just killing time. So do you remember anything that happened while you were, uh, gone?”
“No, I was talking to you outside your bedroom this morning and then poof!” She tried snapping her fingers to demonstrate but failed to make any sound. “Anyway, all of a sudden I was standing by the bed and it was night again. Did I miss anything interesting?”
“No! I mean, no, just family stuff. You’re louder today,” I observed.
“Louder?”
“Your voice. It’s louder than it was yesterday.”
“It is? Testing, testing. It seems the same to me,” she shrugged.
“Well, I can definitely hear you better and you’re not as transparent.” The lights on the DVR were barely visible through her body. Her colors were more noticeable as well, although still very washed out. She looked down at herself doubtfully.
“I guess,” she allowed reluctantly. “Is that good?”
“I honestly don’t know,” I admitted. “The Stone must still be feeding you life energy or something. Can you move things yet?”
“Well, I just walked through that door, so I doubt it.” She tried to nudge one of the remotes on the coffee table but nothing happened. “Oh, well,” she sighed. “Maybe tomorrow.” She sat beside me on the couch and hugged her legs to her chest. “So what should we do tonight?”
Babysitting a ghost wasn’t particularly high on my to-do list at the moment but I couldn’t really tell Olivia that. It wasn’t her fault she was a disembodied spirit. “I guess we could watch the rest of the movie,” I said, reaching for the DVD remote. I wasn’t tired yet anyway.
“I suppose,” she said unenthusiastically, resting her chin on her knees.
“Do you want to see something else?”
“Well –”
“What?”
“I want to go out.”
“Out?”
“Outside the house. The only thing I’ve seen since I got here is basically this room.” She waved her hand around. “No offense, but it’s boring.”
“But you said you couldn’t leave,” I frowned. “You said the Stone was keeping you here.” She tilted her head a bit and looked up at me with big Bambi eyes. “Wait a minute. You want me to go with you.”
“Could you?” she pleaded hopefully. “I want to see what your town looks like.”
“It’s the middle of the night!” I protested. “There isn’t anything to see even when the sun’s up!”
“Please?” she begged. “Just for a little while. I’ll make it up to you.”
“How?” I asked. “You’re dead.”
“Well –” That stymied her. “I don’t know, we’ll figure something out. Please?” She actually got up on her knees and clasped her hands together.
I shook my head with a sigh. I absolutely did not want to take her on a guided tour of Hellburn, Texas. “Fine,” I said resignedly, “but just a quick loop around downtown, okay?”
“Okay!” she exclaimed, silently clapping her hands. “Come on, let’s go!” She jumped off the couch and ran to the door, bouncing on her toes while she waited for me to get to my feet. “Hurry up!” she insisted.
“Why?” I grumbled sourly. “Hellburn’s not going anywhere.”
Olivia stepped through the door and waited for me on the other side. I dug my key out of my pocket and trudged to the front door, only to have her race by me and phase through it too.
“Hold up!” I called. “You can’t go anywhere without me, remember?” I pulled open the door and found her standing right there.
“Bo
o,” she said with an impish grin.
“Yeah, boo,” I sighed.
The study door opened and Dad leaned out with a frown. “Peter?” he asked. “Where are you going?”
“Oh, um.” I couldn’t deny that I was leaving, since I was standing in the doorway with my key in my hand. “I, ah, was just going for a quick drive to get some fresh air.”
Dad checked his watch. “This late at night?” he asked skeptically.
“Well, um, I couldn’t sleep. I might swing by Whataburger or something. For some fries. For Dara.”
“Is she with you? I thought I heard you talking to someone.” He looked right at Olivia and she ducked around the corner with a frightened squeak.
“No, she’s, ah, in her room. My room. I’m bringing them back. The fries, that is.” I knew I sounded like I was hiding some guilty secret but I couldn’t help myself.
Dad looked me over and apparently decided to give me the benefit of the doubt, even though he had every right to question my motives, if not my sanity. “All right,” he said. “Don’t stay out too late and be quiet when you come back in.”
“I will. Um, good night.”
“Good night.” He took one last curious look at the street outside and then went back into the study. I heaved a sigh and stepped outside, closing the door as quietly as I could.
“That was your dad, right?” Olivia asked nervously. “Are you going to get in trouble for taking me out?”
“No, it’s okay. He probably thinks I’m sneaking out to be with Melissa.” I headed down the walkway towards the Mustang and she trotted silently after me.
“Who’s Melissa?”
“She’s, um, a girl I know.”
“Is she your girlfriend?” she asked suspiciously.
“Sort of, maybe.” I unlocked the car with my fob and opened the passenger door for her. “Get in.”
“How can she maybe be your girlfriend?” Olivia checked the interior and then clambered into the passenger seat, tucking her nightgown around her legs. “She is or she isn’t.”
“It’s not that simple.” I closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side, wondering if any of the neighbors noticed me holding the door for no apparent reason and talking to myself. “Relationships are complicated.” Mine just happened to be stranger than most.
“If you say so,” she said dubiously.
“Trust me on this,” I told her sardonically. “All right, buckle up.” I started the car, feeling the comforting thrum of the engine through the steering wheel, and then noticed her looking at me with an odd expression. “Oh, right, never mind.” I shifted into gear and pulled away from the curb. “One personalized tour of beautiful downtown Hellburn coming right up.”
22
I don’t like talking to people all that much. I talk to people all the time, of course, and I don’t go out of my way to avoiding talking to them, but it’s not something I particularly enjoy doing. I’d be perfectly happy going through my day without uttering a single word.
The main problem I have with talking is that it’s linear, one word following another in sequence, so that you have to wait until the other person finishes their sentence in order to figure out what they said. Reading is so much faster. You can just glance at a passage, ignore any unimportant words, and immediately discern its meaning. That’s why texting is the preferred medium of communications for my generation. Everything is short, sweet, and to the point, without all of the social overhead of a normal conversation. Talking is just too inefficient.
And yet, despite this fundamental truth, Justin and I can ramble on for hours about random topics when we’re off doing something and I’ll gladly banter with the other players during a day-long dungeon crawl in Lorecraft. It’s only when I have to talk that my antipathy towards speech kicks in.
For me, there’s a big difference between learning about something and learning about someone. If I want to know something, I’d much rather just read about it. The only way to really know somebody else, though, is to talk to them.
Olivia swiveled her head left and right as we drove down Milton Street, like she was on a bus tour through Hollywood. There were a few cars on the road but most of the buildings on either side were closed up and dark. Her frown deepened the further we went.
“So when do we get to the interesting part of town?” she asked finally.
“You’re looking at it,” I shrugged.
“But there’s nothing here. Where is everybody?”
“Welcome to Small Town America,” I told her wryly. “This isn’t New Orleans.”
“This isn’t even my neighborhood,” she grumbled, slumping in her seat. “I thought you’d have something fun to do here, like Bourbon Street and the French Quarter.”
“Well, there’s always the Henry Milton Memorial up ahead.”
“Who’s Henry Milton?”
“He’s Hellburn’s founding father. Well, that’s not exactly true. He’s the guy who inspired the name of the town that was founded after he left.”
Olivia screwed up her face. “Huh?”
“It’s a long story,” I sighed. “He owned a ranch here but he decided he didn’t like the Texas summers. According to legend, he woke up one day, said I’d rather burn in Hell than spend another summer’s day in that God-forsaken hole, and took the next stagecoach to Oklahoma. That’s pretty much Hellburn in a nutshell. People don’t move here, they look for excuses to leave.”
“You’re still here.”
“Well, give it a year. I’m still in school.”
“Hmph,” she pouted and then sat up straighter. “What’s that up ahead?”
“Those lights? That’s the lawn in front of City Hall.” That was also where Melissa wanted to make a baby with me after her initiation but I had no intention of telling Olivia that.
“Oh.” She looked around and heaved a sigh. “Can we at least get out and walk around for a little bit? Just sitting here is boring.”
I wasn’t enthused about her proposal but it was either that or watch another movie at home and hopefully this wouldn’t take as long. I pulled over to the curb, shut off the engine. and got out. Olivia stayed where she was, looking at me expectantly through the window, and I finally figured out she wanted me to open her door.
“You realize you can just go through the door, right?” I asked her as she stepped out and shook out the hem of her nightgown.
“Momma says gentlemen should open doors for ladies,” she said seriously. “It’s the polite thing to do.”
“You’re assuming I’m a gentleman.” I locked the car and started down the sidewalk. Olivia trotted to catch up to me.
“Of course you are,” she insisted. “You’ve been nice to me ever since I,” she waved her hand around as she searched for the right word, “resurrected. I mean, most people would have run away screaming if they saw a ghost, right?”
“Most people don’t hang out with witches and demons all day.”
“I guess. Can we go over to that park?” she asked, pointing at the lawn.
“If you want.” There was a car coming and I waited on the edge of the curb for it to pass, but Olivia just darted straight out into the street. “Olivia!”
I tried to catch her arm but my grasping fingers met nothing at air. The car passed right through her without slowing down, leaving her standing there in the middle of the lane grinning at me mischievously. I clutched my chest, trying to get my heart started again.
“Oh my God, don’t ever do that again!” I yelled. “You could have been –”
“Killed? Oh no, what was I thinking?” She covered her mouth with both hands, faking shock, and then dissolved into giggles. “You should see your face.”
“I have a pretty good idea what it looks like,” I grumbled. “You’re lucky I’m a gentleman or I’d be using some choice words right now.”
“Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry at all. She skipped across the street and ran ahead onto the lawn while I followed at a more caut
ious pace.
City Hall took up most of the block, a hulking behemoth of granite and sandstone fronted by wide stairs and a columned portico. The lawn itself was basically a flat rectangle of grass bordered by knee-high hedges and park benches, but other than the statue of Henry Milton on the far side, it was just a large empty space that almost glowed under the floodlights.
Olivia walked into the center of the lawn, gazing curiously around her. Her ghostly aura wasn’t obvious under the lights and she looked almost normal from this distance, except that she didn’t cast any shadows.
She stopped, facing City Hall, and I wondered what caught her attention. Then she spread her arms, her hands bent gracefully at the wrists, and stood with one foot pointed forward. She held the pose for a moment and then she began to dance.
A few years back, Mom dragged the rest of us up to Dallas to see a live performance of the Nutcracker at the Myerson. Men are genetically incapable of appreciating ballet but I still remembered the girl who played Maria, the main character. I left the show in awe of how she glided and pirouetted and leapt across the stage as if gravity was just a suggestion. Watching Olivia now brought all those memories rushing back.
Her eyes were closed and she was frowning as if she was trying to remember the moves but I couldn’t detect any flaws in her movements. I could almost imagine the music playing in the background as she used the lawn as a stage, performing for an audience of one.
Her impromptu recital finally came to an end as she knelt on the grass with her arms crossed at the wrists and her head bowed. I walked towards her, clapping as I shook my head.
“Wow,” I told her sincerely, “that was amazing! How long have you been doing that?”
“I took ballet lessons for a couple of years,” she said quietly, sitting back on her heels, “before I got sick.” She looked up at me, her mouth set in a sad smile, and then she covered her face and sobbed brokenly.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ran to her side but I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t hug her or pat her hand or do any of the other things I could think of to comfort her. I had no practical experience with weeping women. Susie never cried and Melissa just tended to get angry when she was upset. “Why are you crying?”
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