Hell, Meet Haunted

by Tee, Marian

  "On the other hand, some immediately turn into poltergeists."

  Nope. Don't want to be an afterlife stalker-slash-killer either.

  "And finally, there are those who gradually draw enough energy from their surroundings, acquire shape and form, and if they're powerful enough, they'd be able to communicate, interact, and regain virtually all of the bodily functions they possessed when they were living."

  "That's me," I pointed out. "And obviously other ghosts, too, so what makes me different?"

  "Two things," Hadrian murmured. "Firstly, the amount of power you've been able to amass at such a short period of time is...unprecedented."

  "So...you're saying, I'm like a superghost?"

  His lips twitched. "I guess I am."

  "Also: a superghost who doesn't know what her unfinished business is."

  "Most of the time, it has to do with family members who still miss you—-"

  "That's not me," I interrupted him. "I was an only child, and my family died in 9/11."

  His lips pressed together, and then he asked rather coolly, "An ex-boyfriend who meant a lot to you perhaps?"

  "My last boyfriend cheated on me," I told him wryly, "so you have nothing to worry—-"

  "Good." Hadrian dropped a quick, hard kiss over my mouth right after, and it still had my toes curling even though it hadn't lasted longer than a second.

  "You are surprisingly primitive," I teased him, and true enough, Hadrian didn't even bother denying the words and simply acknowledged it with a casual take-it-or-leave-it shrug.

  "If you no longer have any questions—-"

  "I do," I said right away.

  "It will cost you a kiss—-" Hadrian's silver eyes gleamed in amusement with the way I was already on his lap and pressing my lips to his even before he had finished speaking.

  I smiled down at him. "I'm not the type to play hard to get."

  "I noticed." His voice was a languid purr once more, and the way he stroked my hip was as sensual as it was possessive.

  "First question: how do I figure out what my unfinished business is?"

  "Revisit your past. Keep digging until you find your answer."

  I kissed him again and then pulled back to ask my next question. "Will I see my family in the Isle of the Blessed?"

  "If you've all been similarly judged, yes."

  Something flickered in his eyes then, and I was summarily startled when Hadrian gently stroked my cheek with the pad of his thumb. "What is it?" I asked, concerned.

  "Tell me the truth, Saoirse."

  "Of course."

  "Are you in a hurry to move on?"

  My heart skipped a beat, and I heard myself ask, "Is that your way of asking me to stay?"

  "Will you?"

  I took his hand and pressed my lips to his knuckles, saying simply, "Yes."

  Chapter Four

  DEAR DIARY,

  Why is it that people who turn into zombies also seem to shed off IQ points the way snakes shed their scales? Why can't it be the same for ghosts? Can't God make the scariest ghosts dumber so I won't have such a hard time avoiding them?

  HADRIAN RECEIVED A call from CSI shortly after breakfast, and I was quick to say yes when he asked if I wanted to accompany him to work. For one thing, I was truly interested to know what the latest update on his case was, but another equally important motivation for me was that I simply didn't want to be alone. Being on my own would mean I'd have to worry about other ghosts trying to make contact with me, and...oh!

  I blinked in surprise when Hadrian cupped my elbow just as I was about to slip my feet into my shoes.

  "Another surprise." I saw his gaze stray towards the doorway, followed his line of sight, and that's when I saw the new pair of kitten heeled shoes waiting for me. He came to stand behind me, and his breath teased my ear. "Give them a try?"

  And of course, they fit perfectly.

  I twirled around in my new heels, and I saw him smile.

  "Like it?" he asked huskily.

  "Love it."

  And I did, I really did, but it also made my heart ache with a bittersweet sense of pain. Stop wishing for the impossible, Saoirse. It should be enough that I had found him, even though I was already dead.

  With other living people around, Hadrian and I didn't bother talking to each other on our way down, and he had already been driving for more than a few minutes when I remembered something that had been nagging at me while I was washing the dishes.

  How was it that the entire time I was with Hadrian, not a single ghost had come to bother me? I hadn't seen them lurking in the shadows, hadn't heard any disembodied voices, hadn't even felt the hairs on my skin stand for a second.

  "Why is that?" I asked curiously after sharing with him my observations.

  "About that..." Hadrian seemed to be picking his words with care. "Remember when I said there were two things that made you different?"

  I frowned. "Yeah."

  "This is the second thing," he said finally. "My...job makes ghosts instinctively fear me—-"

  So he was a bounty hunter, after all.

  "You, on the other hand..."

  That was my light bulb moment, and I gasped out loud. "That's why you didn't know I was a ghost at the start."

  "Exactly."

  "Well, well, well." I flipped my hair over my shoulder. "I really am different, aren't I?" I couldn't help feeling - and sounding - a little smug, and I didn't even mind at all when I saw Hadrian roll his eyes. Unfortunately, the smugness was short-lived when I saw him driving into another hospital parking lot.

  Shiiiiiiiit.

  My gaze quickly sized up the place as Hadrian went around to open my car door. Roger Hills Hospital. Small. Old. Shit, shit, shit. The older the place, the more ghosts there were. And this hospital?

  Established! In! 1917!

  I could feel myself paling already, and Hadrian seemed to have noticed this as he came around to open the door for me. "Are you alright?"

  "I'm fine," I said quickly. No way was I going to tell him I was afraid of other ghosts. I was probably being paranoid about this, but what if telling Hadrian made him change his mind about us?

  So keep your wits together, Saoirse Sullivan!

  I cleared my throat as we headed up the steps. "So, just curious. Is this place spell-protected?" Please, please, please say it is.

  Hadrian shook his head. "Just a regular one." He paused. "Although, it also used to be an asylum, if I remember correctly."

  I managed a smile while fighting against the urge to throw up. Asylum! This place used to be a freaking asylum!

  A CSI agent was already waiting at the hospital lobby when we entered, and I ducked my head as the two shook hands and started talking. All I could see were tiles now, and that was good. Safe. It was one of the easiest ways to avoid making eye contact with other ghosts. Just keep your head down and—-

  "Saoirse?"

  Wasn't that Hadrian's voice?

  "You can hear me, right?"

  I reluctantly raised my head and saw Hadrian speaking on the phone just as his silver eyes locked with mine. "I'm heading to the morgue."

  Morgue? As in...a place filled with dead people like me?

  "Would you like to..."

  I was already shaking my head the moment he started speaking, the mere thought of accompanying him there enough to send me into a panic.

  "Alright. I'll talk to you later. Let's meet at the lobby." He waited until I nodded before turning back to the agent waiting behind him with a polite expression on his face. "Sorry about that," Hadrian said briefly. "Shall we go?"

  I watched them walk away, and it was only when they had already taken the basement stairs that I realized what an idiot I am.

  Shit!!!

  Didn't Hadrian tell me earlier that his job made ghosts terrified of him? So even if that place had been a morgue, I would have been safer there! Anywhere would be safe as long as—-

  Shit!

  Too late, I realized I had been bl
ankly staring at the distance for far longer than what was smart...long enough, that is, to see a ghost cross my line of sight.

  Because I told you, didn't I?

  They were everywhere.

  I quickly ducked my head just as the ghost started turning his head towards me, as if sensing my stare. You've been through worse shit than this, Saoirse. You can do this. Without lifting my head, I slowly and carefully turned towards the direction Hadrian and the agent had taken. Sudden, jerky movements suggested fear, and fear meant you could see them.

  I struggled to keep a steady pace as I descended the steps, gaze still fixed on the floor tiles. A long windowed corridor awaited me when I reached the landing, and the doors lined up on one side all looked the same. Shit. Left without any choice, I reluctantly raised my head...and felt my heart rate rocket from sixty to two hundred beats at the sight that greeted me.

  A way-finding panel signage was mounted on the wall, with a northwest arrow placed next to the morgue. But in spotting it, I also ended up seeing something else: a ghost who seemed to have found her cozy spot at one corner of the ceiling.

  You know how SpiderMan does it, don't you? Well, picture that, but replace your friendly neighborhood superhero with an old woman in a light blue hospital gown. Her gray hair looked stiff, thick strands clumped together and standing at all directions. Either she had died after a bad day at the salon...or she thought combing was bad for her health when she was alive.

  Either way...this pretty much confirmed it. Roger Hills Hospital was indeed a former asylum, and I now had to contend with—-

  A door suddenly opened, and I jumped in shock with a little gasp. The sound had ceiling-dwelling granny snap her gaze towards me, and I almost tripped in my haste to catch up with the two nurses that had come out of the room.

  They were discussing a patient's latest diagnosis, and I nodded and murmured sounds of agreement in hopes as I fell into pace with them. "Uh huh. Yes. That's right." I could still feel the ghost's gaze following me, and it was making my knees quake under my skirt. Shiiiit. The nurses turned around the corner, and I kept pace with them while thinking furiously on what to do next. Do I make a run for it? Or do I stick with the girls? The nurses and I were heading south while the morgue was in the opposite direction, where ceiling-dwelling granny was.

  I gnawed at my lip while keeping my gaze pinned to the floor. We had reached the end of the hallway, where the nurses' recreational room was. Lots of people here, which was a good thing, and a parade of sneakers walked past me. Nike. Adidas. Nike. Nike. Puma. Nike. Skechers. Onitsu—-shit!

  Brown men's leather shoes, tattered, and matched with ankle-length socks. Nothing horrendous about it...except for the fact that they gliding a few inches off the floor.

  Shiiiiiit.

  I dug my fingers into my palms in an effort to stay calm. Breathe in, breathe out. Hyperventilating would only draw their attention, and so would holding my breath. All there was to do was just breathe. Nice and easy, Saoirse. That's it. Just like that. And then it was over, with the ghost moving on, and I silently breathed a sigh of relief.

  Atta girl.

  I turned around unthinkingly and found myself staring straight into ceiling-dwelling granny's red eyes.

  I screamed.

  I'M NOT SURE HOW LONG I was on the floor, face buried in my knees, arms wrapped around my shaking body. All I knew was that one moment, ceiling-dwelling granny was pulling on my hair, cackling and salivating while trying to force me to look at her, and then the next moment, there was nothing.

  Nothing except Hadrian's strong, calm voice gradually penetrating my senses.

  Saoirse.

  It's fine now.

  I'm here.

  There's nothing to be afraid of.

  I'm here.

  The buzzing in my ears faded, and the pounding of my heart petered down. His voice was a sign of sanity, telling me that ceiling-dwelling granny hadn't succeeded in killing me with a heart attack or, worse, turning me into one like her: a lunatic in the afterlife.

  I forced myself to open my eyes. My vision swam for a moment before righting itself and rewarding my courage with the most reassuring sight: Tall, Dark, and Heroic. My knight in wool and denim.

  "What happened?" Hadrian crouched down, phone between his ear and shoulder, while he started retying the laces of his boots.

  I shook my head, too shamed to speak the truth.

  "I heard you screaming when I came out to take a call. I saw someone pulling your hair."

  Just hearing the words had me remembering, and I found myself biting my lip to keep it from trembling. His bright silvery eyes told me that the truth was out.

  Hadrian knew I was afraid of ghosts.

  Chapter Five

  DEAR DIARY,

  Here's another perk when you become a ghost. You never stink! I tested this out thoroughly, and it doesn't matter how long you've been out in the sun, how many days you've gone without a shower or how much durian you've eaten. It doesn't matter. You will never stink.

  WE WERE BACK IN THE car, the engine running, and I was on his lap, his arms wrapped around me. I had just finished crying, and his sweater was wet against my cheek. My fingers touched the stained spot, and I whispered, "Sorry about this."

  "Hm."

  That grunt of his was like my audible version of a comfort blanket now, and I actually found myself closing my eyes just to savor its sound.

  "You okay now?"

  I nodded.

  "Then can we talk about the elephant in the room?"

  "You mean, the ghost in the hospital, right?"

  I felt him smile against my hair. "I'll take that as a yes." And then he was gently pulling me off, and I knew my grace period was up, and it was time to do a little adulting.

  I leaned against the car door as I met his quiet gaze.

  "You should've told me you were afraid of ghosts."

  "It's stupid, isn't it?"

  "What's your favorite food when you were alive?"

  "Uh..." The sudden question threw me off, and I found myself blinking at him. "Lasagna, I guess?"

  "Did you start hating it when you died?"

  "No, of course..." I made a face when I realized this was just Hadrian making a point, i.e. the things you loved, hated, and feared didn't change just because you died. And yes, I really did get it now, but...

  "What about you?" I forced myself to ask. "Were you really never afraid of ghosts?"

  "Never."

  "But what about the future? Are you sure you'll nev—-mmph." Hadrian sucked playfully on my lower lip, and my toes curled.

  Lifting his head, Hadrian asked dryly, "Does that feel like I could ever be afraid of you?"

  A smile wobbled over my lips. "Nope."

  "Keep it in mind then." He bent his head again, but this time he nipped my lip just a little harder and rougher, like a sweet punishment only a lover could give.

  Why was it that I had to meet him when I was already dead again?

  HADRIAN SHARED THE latest update on his case when we were back in his apartment having a late lunch. Just as he had predicted, CSI only needed a short amount of time to interview the catoblepas breeders on their list, and one recent transaction had caught their eye: a request for a high-dosage catoblepas pill that was strong enough to negate human sensitivity to heat, and when asked for a temperature range, the customer had said a minimum of 2,000 degree Fahrenheit would do.

  "2,000 degree Fahrenheit?" I echoed incredulously. "And the seller didn't think that was weird or suspicious?"

  "People in his line of business get paid more when they don't ask too many question."

  "Like guys who sell guns," I interpreted with a grimace.

  "In any case, CSI was able to persuade him to turn over crucial security footage—-"

  "And you saw Unidentified Woman," I exclaimed. "Case solved then?"

  "Would've been, if UW was still alive."

  "She's dead?"

  "She was the reason why I had
to go to the morgue."

  "Shit."

  "Indeed."

  I dug into my lasagna (and yes, he had it delivered by the time we arrived back at the apartment because he's sweet and perfect that way) as I chewed on the newest roadblock in his case. Why would MS and UW bother with a swapping spell if all it would accomplish was changing the place where they died?

  "Did MS, in UW's body, end up in an accident?" It would be a freakish coincidence if so, but karma was karma, so—-

  But then I saw Hadrian's lips start to move, and it formed a single word. "No."

  Shit. So karma wasn't at work then. I fed myself another forkful of lasagna. "What's the cause of death?"

  "Heart attack."

  I almost choked on my lemon soda. Heart attack? Considering how complicated this whole escape plan was turning out, I had a hard time imagining that either or both MS and UW would push through with a swapping spell, knowing that one of them was at risk of cardiac failure.

  This didn't make sense.

  At all.

  Unless...

  "Is it possible another swapping spell was used? Or just any other kind of spell that would—-" I saw Hadrian's gaze gleam, and I was instantly suspicious. "Wait a minute."

  His eyes were openly laughing at me now.

  "You already know all of these, don't you?" I accused.

  "I do."

  "Then why—-"

  "Didn't you say you wanted to be...how was it that you put it..." His voice became mockingly polite. "The perfect Watson to my Holmes, wasn't it?"

  "Grr!" But this quickly turned into a squeal of laughter when he scooped me off my seat, and I quickly flung my arms around him when he started walking.

  I pulled back a little so he could see me pout. "I wasn't done eating—-" But when I felt Hadrian about to lower me back to my feet, I said quickly, "I'm just kidding."

  Hadrian's head lowered as he whispered into my ear, "I know."

  SO, A LITTLE RECAP: Missing Subject and Unidentified Woman swapped souls. Unidentified Woman died in Missing Subject's body, which the fiery waters of Phlegethon had reduced into a couple of - say it with me - phalanges. Meanwhile, we were able to trace Missing Subject, now in Unidentified Woman's body, with the help of a catoblepas seller. We should've solved our case at this point...if only Unidentified Woman's body hadn't ended up in a morgue.