At first, Harris had jumped, but was quickly relieved. She laughed. A mouse. That was it. It was actually a mouse this time. Maybe she was safe. She hadn't drawn any attention to her soul after all. Harris laughed quietly and turned to go back to bed.
A dark, pallid, face stared into hers, inches away from her nose. Shadowy caverns sat where eyes should be. Long black hair floated around her as if she was under water. Harris could feel her own heart trying to break through her chest. She stood perfectly still, holding her breath, as the ghost stared her down, drifting closer, closer, closer-
Bang.
The toaster flew from the counter behind Harris, and hit the floor. The ghost girl was startled. Her mouth opened into a long, stretched oval, then she vaporized into a swirl of smoke. Harris dropped to the ground, shaking. She slowly turned her head to see a black cat jump down from the counter and strut into the living room. Harris watched it as it passed her by.
Thank God for the cat, she thought. She stood up slowly, still unstable. She walked through the living room and glanced at the cat curled up in the window sill. He didn't even look back at her. She went back to the bedroom and laid in bed, still in shock. She was wrong. She wasn't safe anymore. Harris let her eyelids close, even though her mind wanted them open. She started to drift away, when she was pulled back by a startling thought. She didn't have a cat.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Harris sat on the couch, sipping her coffee, staring at the cat sitting in front of her. He stretched out, arching his back, then sat down, his tail waving slowly.
"Who are you?" Harris asked the cat.
The cat walked past her, ignoring her existence, to the window. He jumped up to the sill and started people watching from his new lookout.
"Or what are you?" She added. "I gotta call Pearl. This is too weird." And with that, the cat turned back and looked at Harris. He stared for a moment, not blinking, then returned to his people watching.
"So, I have a cat here." Harris led with the most important part, she thought. Also the part that Pearl wouldn't yell at her about.
"Okay. That's great! I love kitties," Pearl answered.
"Yeah but, here's the thing. I never got a cat. He's not mine. He was just here. Okay, let me tell you the bad part. I dream-visited Dylan, not intentionally. A ghost followed me back and tried to kill me again. The cat scared it off. He was just here and he scared her away. Now he is just acting like he lives here."
"Harris! Are you crazy? You have to learn how to fight those desires. You have to stay in control. You can't go there." Pearl raised her voice as much as Pearl does, just as Harris predicted.
"Okay, I know. But this cat."
"Sounds like he is keeping you, so I'd let him stay. Not that you have a choice, I'd bet." Pearl said smiling through the phone.
"Why did he come here? And how? He scared away one of the worst ghosts I've known. How? Is this a magic thing? Is he a Pagan cat?" Harris asked, laughing at herself.
"Harris, come on. All cats are Pagan, everyone knows that. Also, cats can cross between worlds just like you. They can occasionally be good protection from spiritual threats. Why do you think the ancient Egyptians were so obsessed with them?" Pearl said, still with her smiling voice.
Harris couldn't tell if she was joking or not.
"You should give him a name," Pearl said.
"So I should keep him? Like a pet? Feed him, vet, all that stuff?"
"Harris, he saved your life. He chose you for some reason. The least you could do is give him food and shelter, I mean really," Pearl said.
She had a point, Harris thought. Harris hung up with Pearl and eyed up her new feline companion.
"What is your name?" she asked.
The cat meowed at her.
"I don't speak cat and I am not naming you Meow. That's a terrible name. How about...Riff?" Harris asked.
Riff looked at her. Harris could almost swear he nodded his head the slightest bit. He turned back toward the window.
"Where were you years ago?"
Riff jumped down from the window and swaggered over to Harris. He leapt onto the couch and planted himself in her lap. Harris stroked his fur. She never was a cat person, but she could get used to this, she thought. He was warm and soft, had an attitude, and scared away ghosts on occasion. He was perfect.
Harris's phone rang. She grabbed it and looked at the screen. It was Ant calling. She felt her stomach flip. Uh-oh. That's not how she should be feeling, she said to herself. Get it together. He is a friend. Think of Dylan.
"Should I answer it? What do you think?" Harris asked Riff. Riff hissed at her, stepped on her phone and jumped onto the arm of the couch, his paw flinging her phone to the floor. "Riff you stupid cat! Bad! No! Bad cat! You're going to break my phone." Maybe she wasn't a cat person.
Chapter Forty-Nine
"You want anything to drink? I'm going over to the bar," Ant asked, leaning close to Harris's ear. They had met up at a local pub that was hosting an open mic.
The music was pretty good, which surprised Harris. She pictured it to be like the time she went to karaoke with some friends. That had been a hodgepodge of 80's hits being yelled by groups of drunk college kids and off key R&B ballads performed with more heart than the original artists had. Still a good time, just not great on the ears.
"Yeah, whiskey sour. Hey these guys are really good," she answered back, nodding to the beat.
Ant nodded and smiled, then walked off to the bar. Harris had been waiting all week to go out, ever since Ant invited her. It was nice to get out and let go of her stress for the evening. Every night, Harris was terrified that she would encounter another ghost or demon in her dreams, or worse, in her house, after the first one showed up. Her and Pearl's fears seemed to be avoided, thankfully. She didn't know if she just got lucky, or it was because of Riff living with her now, but all had gone back to normal.
"You like cats?" Harris asked Ant as he sat back down with their drinks.
"I guess they're okay. Why?"
"I recently acquired one. I was never a cat person and he's kind of an asshole, but I think that's why I like him." Harris laughed.
The last singer finished his song, and the normal background music that the pub played kicked back on. It was a little quieter and much easier to talk over.
"So, I don't want to get too 'date-y'or whatever, but, tell me about you? You have siblings? I have an older brother. He is in the Air Force and is my parent's pride and joy. We get along good though," Ant said.
Harris felt stupid that she hadn't seen this coming. Of course new friends would want to know about her. She should have prepared a story or at least planned out what to divulge.
"No. Only child," she responded.
"Oh cool. You close with your parents?" Ant probed further.
There it is. "They're dead." Harris said.
"Oh I'm sorry. I'm just going to stop asking about you. I feel stupid," Ant said, looking toward the floor, squeezing the bridge of his nose.
"No it's okay. It was a while ago. How about your parents? Are they alive? Are they nice?"
"Yeah, they are nice. My dad and I, we are really close. My mom, she is pretty tough, strict, you know. She wanted us both to be doctors or lawyers or something." Ant looked down again.
"Oh I get that. My mom had pretty high expectations, too." Harris smiled. It felt good to remember her mother, and talk about her with someone. "She was a tough lady, too. But it helped me be tough, too."
"You want to go get some food or something?" Ant asked, looking nervous. "Or is that too much like a date?"
"Friends can eat together, can't they?" Harris chuckled at him.
"Tacos it is," Ant said, grinning.
* * *
The night was calm and clear. Ant and Harris walked side by side, cautious of the space between them. They were trying their best to keep their night platonic. Ant stepped around a grate on the sidewalk, and his hand brushed against Harris's. Her heart sped up. She pul
led her hand away quickly.
"Oh, sorry," Ant said, the tension palpable. He put his hands in his pockets.
"It's okay. Really. It's okay." Harris turned to face him. Maybe she should just go with it. She obviously was feeling something. Would it be so bad to let someone in? She doesn't have to be serious, but she doesn't have to be scared of a little flirty connection, she said to herself. "I think us trying so hard to not make it awkward is making it awkward," she said to Ant.
He laughed. "I have to agree. Thank God you said something."
"I like you. You're funny and cute. I'm not ready for anything serious, but I'm not going to act like I don't like you just on principle," Harris rationalized out loud.
"Cool. Because I like you, too. I won't push, I promise. But I still would like to get tacos, if that's okay for our not-date-date."
"Yes, that sounds perfect for our not-date-date." Harris blushed.
They walked down the street, listening to the background noise from the late night eateries and bars on the main strip. They let their bodies drift a little closer as they walked. Around the corner, the smell of tacos hit Harris in the face. Her stomach rumbled.
"Oh man they smell good. I'm starving," Ant said.
"I was just thinking that," Harris answered back. She grabbed his shoulder, as they giggled together.
A couple walked past them as they got nearer to the taco place. The woman glared at Harris, her eyes burning into her. Harris slowed down and leaned to Ant.
"Did you see the look she was giving me? What the hell?"
Ant didn't answer. He stopped walking. Slowly, he turned toward Harris, grabbing her arms. His grip tightened. He looked into her eyes, his eyes aflame.
"Ant? What are you doing, get off of me! That hurts!" Harris pulled back, alarmed.
Ant's grip tightened more. His eyes bore into Harris. She could feel them reaching into her soul. He didn't look like himself. He looked like someone else in Ant's body. Harris trembled.
Ant's mouth opened, but his voice didn't come out. Instead, a hollow growl came out. "I said I liked it here. Found you bitch." Ant's breath was like ice on her face.
She tried to cry out, but he gripped onto her throat. Tighter and tighter, he crushed down on her windpipe. Her lungs strained and cried for air. It wasn't Ant, anymore. She looked into his eyes. Something evil was inside him, and it wasn't letting Harris walk away alive. She pulled at his fingers, but her head felt light and her body weak.
A white light filled her vision, then darkness closed in. She could feel the cold sidewalk beneath her body. Then she couldn't. A fog rolled over her skin as the sounds faded away, except for the sound of her own thoughts, a familiar prayer.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
The end.
Harris Page 16