by S. A. Moss
No bodies.
But there was a large bloodstain to my left, where Silver’s body had fallen. Giving the dark splotch a wide berth, I peered at the card table desk, trying to make out anything important in the pile of papers and files scattered across its surface. When the—what had Arcadius called it?—wraith had leapt across the desk towards Silver, it’d barely disturbed any of the papers, but the desktop was a mess anyway. Silver had been a one-man operation, and it didn’t look like he enjoyed doing secretarial work.
Unfortunately, in this part of the room, the light from the window barely penetrated the dark. I grabbed all the files and papers in my arms and tottered over to the window, setting my load down on the sill.
The light helped, and I was able to sort through the files quickly. But not a single one bore the name Prentice. It didn’t look like the police had taken much from this room besides the two bodies, but I had a sinking feeling whatever information Silver had found on my parents was long gone. If the wraith had been here threatening him over that exact information, then the creature had probably come back for the file as soon as I’d died. And if that was true, then the trail I was following was stone cold.
What on earth did a supernatural creature want with a file on my parents?
As I sorted through a stack of loose papers, something caught my eye. Sticking out of a file marked “Meyers—Cheating Husband” was a picture. I slipped it out, and my eyes widened.
A harsh whisper fell from my lips. “Dad!”
12
Dropping the rest of the papers, I snatched that file back up, wondering if Silver had somehow found my father while investigating another case. But nothing else in the case file mentioned John Prentice. Had the picture slipped into this file by accident? That would explain why the wraith had missed it when he came back to clean up. Holding the photo up to the light, I stared at it intently.
It was him. My dad.
I couldn’t tell when the picture had been taken, but it seemed recent. Not because of the image, but because the picture itself seemed crisp and clean. It had no fading or wear. In it, my father stood on a street corner with another man, appearing deep in conversation.
My chest tightened. He looked just like I remembered. He’d barely changed in twelve years—his dark, almost black hair was cut short, and he was wearing a suit. Something in his expression was different though. Was it harsher? Colder? Maybe it had to do with the man he was talking to, who was several inches shorter than my nearly six-foot-tall dad, and also several inches wider across the shoulders.
My dad had always been very formal. He was a suits on the weekend kind of guy, although he didn’t seem to mind that my mom and I liked to dress casually pretty much all the time. And even though he was sometimes a little stiff or reserved, all of that vanished when he was with my mom.
The difference in their personalities had seemed to be part of the glue that held them together, like two opposite sides of a coin. I often wondered which one of them I took after more. When I was little, I think I was more like my mom—goofy and fun-loving. After they vanished, my life had changed so much, and I’d changed with it. Now I had a feeling I was more like my dad.
The image of my father wavered as tears welled in my eyes.
He was alive. Or at least, he had been recently.
But if he’d been alive all this time, why hadn’t he ever tried to find me, to come back to me?
A noise in the hall drew my eyes up. I stuffed the photo in my back pocket and crept over to peer out the peephole. I didn’t see anything. Maybe it was a resident leaving for an early shift at work? Or someone just getting home from a late night out?
Either way, the creepy-crawlies that had stopped tapping up and down my spine while I’d gone through the files returned with a vengeance. I quickly faded out and slipped through the door, then headed down the stairs and out into the early morning air.
By the time I arrived back at Alex’s apartment, the sun was just beginning to rise. Alex was still in bed, and I poked my head into his room to make sure he hadn’t stopped breathing or anything. Everything looked just as I’d left it, and I let out a sigh of relief.
I sat on the couch and pulled the picture out of my pocket again. This was the only picture I had left of my dad—and I had none of my mom anymore. I wished it was a better picture; one where he was smiling, looking at my mom with that silly grin he used to get when he caught her gaze. I peered more closely at it, trying to take in every detail.
The man talking to my dad had a large square jaw, and a nose that had either been broken once or just decided to grow crooked the first time. He looked like a mob boss or something. Had my dad gotten involved in some kind of illegal activity? Where was my mom in all of this?
I held the picture up for better light and read the name on the awning of the restaurant behind them. Cedric’s. I’d heard of that place. It was definitely in Chicago, somewhere in the Gold Coast, I thought.
Before I could second-guess the wisdom of my action, I slipped into Alex’s room again and quickly faded in, grabbed his laptop, and tiptoed to the bathroom. I locked the door and flipped it open. A quick Google search revealed that I’d been right. The restaurant was in the Gold Coast. I committed the address to memory, cleared the browsing history for the last hour, and then closed the laptop.
I eased the bathroom door open and crept back down the hall. As I reached Alex’s room, the door, which had been sitting ajar, opened wider. I choked down a shriek, freezing in panic.
Shit! He woke up!
Looking down, I saw a very fluffy, extremely angry gray cat staring up at me. I hadn’t seen the cat at all yesterday, but that wasn’t totally surprising. Maybe it’d been able to sense my presence even before it could see me.
I stood stock still, engaging in a silent and intense battle of wills with the cat. He didn’t move from the doorway, just staring up at me with his tail twitching.
Damn it. I really needed to get his laptop back where it belonged before Alex woke up.
“Shoo!” I whispered, as quietly as I could. I poked my foot toward the offended feline, a move I’m sure lowered his opinion of me several more notches. He finally skirted to the side and jumped onto the couch, staring at me. I darted into the bedroom and set the laptop where I’d found it, then quickly faded out. Alex shifted, but remained asleep. My shoulders drooped in relief.
When I returned to the living room, I was pretty sure the cat’s eyes followed me, even though he shouldn’t have been able to see me anymore.
Great. I’d already blown my cover with one resident of this apartment.
But at least I had some new information for my troubles. As soon as possible, I planned to make a trip down to the Gold Coast.
“The usual?”
The man behind the counter was already assembling the hot dog as he asked, loading it up with everything.
“Yeah, Greg. One with the works. Thanks.” Alex blew on his hands.
The temperature had dropped the last couple of days, winter and spring flirting with each other. We were at Myron’s Hot Dogs, which I was quickly coming to realize was one of Alex’s favorite places. He’d stopped here before heading to the studio three days in a row. The idea of chowing down on a hot dog before intense physical activity made me slightly queasy, but it was clearly working just fine for Alex.
Greg handed over the dog, and Alex paid, stuffing a few dollars into the tip jar as well.
“Have fun fighting those kids,” Greg called as we walked out. “Make sure you don’t get your ass kicked by a nine-year-old!”
Alex grinned. “I’ll do my best. Some of them are scrappy though.”
This was part of the daily routine too. Greg loved giving Alex a hard time about teaching martial arts to kids, joking that one day the tiny students would become the masters and kick Alex’s butt.
Having watched a couple of classes now, I was pretty sure that day was a looooong way off. Some of those kids were just lucky if the
y were pointing their face in the right direction most days. Although, there were a few who were obviously very serious about it and attacked each new drill Alex gave them with fervor. Plus, they were just about the right—low—height that a well-placed shot from them could definitely incapacitate Alex for a while.
I stifled a chuckle. Crotch punches were really no laughing matter.
It was strange getting to know someone in the one-sided way I’d been doing with Alex since I’d been assigned to watch over him. I was quickly learning his daily routine, his quirks and habits.
For example, I knew he loved hot dogs. I knew he was good friends with the elderly widow, Evelyn, who lived directly below him—she’d dropped by yesterday evening with lasagna, and the two of them had eaten and chatted like old buddies. I knew he liked to watch old martial arts movies, especially the really cheesy ones where the moves were totally ridiculous. I knew he laughed a lot, even when he was just by himself in his apartment.
But I didn’t feel like I’d come by that knowledge fairly. It felt like cheating to get to know someone so intimately without ever having even one conversation. I hadn’t had to reveal any of my own personal tics and habits to learn so many of his, and the worst part was, I sort of wished I had. I wanted to talk to him, and not just because it was freaking lonely being invisible.
I wondered briefly if other Guardians got overly attached to their charges. It seemed inevitable on some level. Just spending so much time around another person, provided they weren’t a major asshole, was bound to breed some feelings.
I had started actively trying to distance myself from Alex a bit, keeping my mind focused on the search for answers about my parents. I’d snuck into his bedroom again last night to borrow his laptop again. A little more Google searching had revealed the restaurant I’d seen my father and that man coming out of was an old Chicago staple and was actually known for being a meeting place for questionable types—particularly those with mafia connections.
My thoughts were interrupted by our arrival at Windy City MMA. Alex pushed open the door, and I walked through the large window next to it. He had back-to-back classes today, and I’d decided this would be a good opportunity for me to sneak away for a bit and do some snooping in the Gold Coast. I was starting to get nervous that my dad was in over his head with some bad people, and if I could use my new powers to help him, I was sure as hell going to.
“Alex! Dude, you gotta check this out!” Seth, one of the other instructors at the studio, called over. He proceeded to attack the heavy bag with a series of spinning kicks and elaborate punches. With one last flying punch at the bag, he grinned over at Alex, his blond hair sticking out in all directions. “Pretty sweet, right?”
Alex chuckled. “Damn, buddy. That poor bastard never stood a chance.”
“Shit no! Not against my sweet-ass ninja moves!”
I rolled my eyes. Seth was nice but also a total goofball. He was tall, a little younger than me, and although he was definitely in good shape, he still managed to look gangly. He was always coming up with crazy combos that made all the kids gasp, but I’d seen him spar with Alex the other night after hours, and he’d gotten his butt handed to him.
Seth was like those fighters in the cheesy martial arts movies Alex loved—but Alex was a force. His moves were simple but effective, and he didn’t ever move without a purpose.
It was honestly kinda hot.
Ugh. Cut it out, brain. Not helping.
Alex and Seth jokingly sparred while kids filed in for the first class of the day. Rather than watch the moms flirt with Alex, which made me unreasonably annoyed, I chose that moment to slip back outside and head down the street towards the train.
Nerves roiled my stomach.
I had spent years searching for information about my parents’ whereabouts. But the closer I got to uncovering answers, the more worried I was about what I’d find.
13
I passed through the turnstile and jumped on the first Red Line train heading south. I was getting better at avoiding contact with people when I was incorporeal. It creeped me out big-time when someone passed through me. Luckily, there seemed to be some kind of unconscious sixth sense that made most people give me a wide berth.
It took me just under an hour to reach the restaurant. After I hopped off the train, I slipped into an alley and faded in. Snooping around would arguably be easier while invisible, but I wanted to question the hostess at the restaurant. I was hoping the man in the picture and my father were regulars here, and with any luck, the wait staff would know them.
The entrance to Cedric’s was down a few steps, and the interior of the restaurant was dimly lit and done in dark wood. The hostess looked up as I entered. The lunch rush was picking up, and a dull buzz of conversation and clinking utensils filled the space. “Just one?”
“Um, actually, I have a question.” I reached into my back pocket, wondering if real detectives did more to butter up a potential witness or just dived awkwardly into the interrogation like I was about to. I had a feeling I knew the answer.
Well, too late now.
“Yes?” Her brow arched, and she glanced behind me, probably hoping an actual diner would show up and give her a reasonable excuse not to talk to me.
I held up the picture. “Do you recognize either of these men? I think they ate here sometime in… I don’t know, maybe the past couple weeks? I wondered if they’ve been back since then.”
Her skepticism was replaced by a mildly intrigued look. Apparently, she liked the idea of playing part of the amateur detective novel I was writing.
“Hmm. I don’t recognize the tall one, but I know that guy.” She pointed to the man who wasn’t my father.
I licked my lips, trying to keep my expression calm. “You do?”
“Yeah. He comes in all the time. He’s here right now.”
My eyes jerked up, and I scanned the room. I couldn’t see him, but there were tables in the back that weren’t visible from the hostess stand.
I shrank back against the wall. I had no reason to think the man would recognize me, but I didn’t really want to risk it—or let him know that someone was asking around for him.
“Do you know his name?” I spoke in hushed tones, and her eyes glittered. She was really getting into the cloak and dagger of this.
“No. He never makes a reservation. I think he usually pays cash, but I can ask the waiters if they’ve ever seen his name on a card.”
My nails dug into my palms. If she started asking the servers questions, the odds were high that he’d get wind of something strange. “Thanks, but that’s okay. I wanted to ask him a few questions, but I don’t want to disturb his lunch. I’ll just find another time to talk to him. Just, uh—don’t tell him I was here, okay?”
I was trying to play this off as a lot more innocent than it was, and from the look on her face she clearly didn’t believe me. Before she could ask me more questions, I made a quick escape up the steps and out into the bright afternoon sunlight.
I crossed the street and ducked behind a car. Glancing around to make sure no one could see me, I faded out quickly, and then stood up. I’d watch the restaurant until he came out and then follow him.
My body buzzed with adrenaline. I was about to get more answers. I was sure my dad wasn’t with him now, but if I could find out more about this guy, where he went, and what he did, I was sure the trail would lead to my parents eventually.
An hour later, I just was starting to get nervous that he’d left by some back entrance I didn’t know about when he stepped out, sliding on a pair of dark sunglasses. There were two men with him. One was dressed very similarly to him, in a sleek black suit. The other was dressed more casually, in a dark T-shirt and jeans.
All three turned and headed up the street. Staying on the opposite sidewalk, I followed at what felt like a safe distance. I briefly wondered what I’d do if they got in a car, but my worries were for nothing—they kept walking, the two men in suits taking the lead
and the burly guy in a T-shirt bringing up the rear.
I realized why they hadn’t bothered driving a few minutes later, when they came to a stop in front of a large building with lettering on the side that read, “Paradise Nightclub.” Its architecture stood out like a sore thumb from the buildings on either side. It looked trendy and expensive—the kind of place I never would’ve gone to when I was alive.
As they walked up the steps of the massive building, the man in the rear glanced back to scan the street quickly. I was surprised his head could even pivot, he was so inhumanly muscled. And as he glanced down the street in my direction, I realized that wasn’t the only thing inhuman about him. His face was squashed, with a flattened nose that was almost pig-like, and what looked like small tusks sprouting from his mouth.
As I gaped at him, his eyes settled directly on me. They narrowed.
Oh shit.
That guy most definitely wasn’t human. Was he a demon?
And he was faded out just like me—I hadn’t been looking for it, but now I could see the slight glow around him that Pearl had mentioned. That explained why the humans near him weren’t freaking out at his nightmare of a face. But more importantly, it meant that he could see me.
He made a move to get the attention of the man I’d been staking out—I was beginning to call him Boss Man in my head—but I didn’t wait around to see more. I turned and sprinted down the street.
Weaving in between oblivious window shoppers, I chanced a glance behind me. Yup. He was following me, his purposeful stride eating up the ground. Maybe running had been a bad idea? When prey ran, predators chased, and this guy was clearly a predator.
I dodged around a woman pushing a double-wide stroller and ducked into a small clothes boutique, darting into the back. Peering toward the front of the store, I saw him stalk by, his head swiveling this way and that. Before his eyes could lock on me, I slipped through the wall of a small dressing room.