by Ashlyn Chase
***
The following day, Chad watched as Dottie—appropriately nicknamed—met the would-be new tenant at the bottom of the stairs. "Would-be," since Chad had a plan to discourage new renters. This one happened to be a professor from the high tech university across the river. Good. Probably someone who doesn't believe in ghosts. I love a challenge.
Dottie eyed the disheveled looking man wearing ripped jeans and a faded green jacket on the other side of the door and before opening it, she yelled through the thick glass inset window.
"State your business."
"State your business?" Chad rolled his eyes. She sounds like a cop. Maybe she was a pig back in Minnesota. Come to think of it, I could see her in an interrogation room making suspects squirm with all of her funky questions and crazy conclusions.
The man's eyes narrowed and he yelled, "I'm supposed to meet the manager to see an apartment. Is it still for rent?"
She paused, frowning, as if she didn't believe him, gave him the once over, then exhaled loudly and opened the door. Chad thought she must have been expecting a pipe-smoking, tweed blazer–wearing, clean-cut, bespectacled man.
She held the door for him and he skirted around it as if she might slam it in his face. She was making Chad's job too easy! If he didn't drive the professor off, Dottie would.
She led him to the elevator and punched the button. Chad wasn't crazy about riding elevators. Being in spirit form, he had to time his ascent and landing just right so he wouldn't wind up on the other side of the floor or ceiling.
He managed the take-off and stuck the landing just fine. Whew. Why spend the energy to penetrate solid objects like walls, when it's so much easier just to zip into spaces when the doors open? Plus it's fun to see people shiver if I happen to touch them. He laughed to himself.
He'd have given this guy a nice chill down the back of his neck, but a collar and long, curly hair covered the sensitive skin there. The professor didn't bother removing his jacket.
Chad liked the place nice and cool, and it was a good thing since the owners didn't like wasting oil and kept it just warm enough to prevent the pipes from freezing.
The boxes had been moved from the living room to the closets. While he strolled down the hall, Chad used his telekinesis to open the closet door. That task presented no challenge. He could give it a good slam, too, but would wait until they were in the room so they could see it close with no draft.
He managed to move one of the boxes right into the traffic pattern. There, now when they round the corner, someone will trip over it and fall splat. That'll be far-out.
Now that gravity was no longer his problem, he loved watching people fall down. If they were even a tiny bit psychic, they'd hear him laughing his ass off.
I have to let them know the unit's previous owner bought the farm right here in his living room and isn't happy about it. Heh heh. I get what little revenge I can.
He still couldn't get over how they had explained his cause of death. It was officially listed as cardiac arrest. Well, sure. When a bullet enters the brain, the heart stops. Voila. Cardiac arrest.
He had been a journalist in the sixties and lived in interesting times. Protest marches, riots, and LSD were some of the stories he had covered. Unfortunately, so were conspiracy theories, and one of those had landed him in hot water with the Feds. Me and my fucking integrity and first amendment rights. The public deserved to know the truth, but as he found out, someone didn't agree with that.
The story never came to light. Back then, he used an actual typewriter and had been working on the piece at home. He was dedicated. Laboring under a false sense of security, he hadn't used the dead-bolt and two guys broke down the door. One held him at gunpoint while another confiscated all of his notes and the unfinished story. Chad tried to fight back.
If I ever find out who tipped them off, I'll kick his wrinkly old ass. And, speaking of kicking asses, they were coming back toward the living room.
Making eye-contact, Dottie was grilling the professor about his daily habits—if he played loud music, held wild parties, etc. She completely missed seeing the box in front of her, tripped, flipped, and landed spread-eagle on the gleaming hardwood.
Bull's-eye!
Chad laughed so hard he forgot to slam the closet door.
***
Jason had shown up at Merry's apartment a little early to prepare her for the bachelor auction. He only had a couple of hours before the event and a vague, uncomfortable feeling had descended upon him. Ever since he had visited her hospital, he wondered if she could tolerate his celebrity and the challenges it would bring. She teased him about it and seemed okay afterward, but they had only run into a forward female fan once— so far.
They had spent a lot of time together over the past two weeks. Now it seemed as if he had known her forever.
If she was the jealous type, this meat market might be painful. He wanted to reassure her that, regardless of what happened, she was his girl. But if she couldn't handle the possible cat calls and attention he'd be receiving, knowing that sooner rather than later would be helpful.
He cupped her cheek and leaned in for a light kiss. She twined her arms around his neck, which invited another.
Jason felt his arousal brimming and knew that soon, very soon, he wanted to take their relationship to the next level. But it would be better to wait until after tonight—after he witnessed how she'd deal with the auction. Jealousy in a mate could be very tiresome, especially with his lifestyle.
But life is funny. As he gazed at her, he realized that he might wind up being the jealous one. She was a knockout in her little black dress and high-heeled pumps. Earrings that were thin chains of diamonds gently cascaded almost to her collarbones, and with her hair swept up, her long, graceful neck begged to be kissed.
He was just about to push one of her earrings out of the way so he could trail kisses from her ear to her shoulder when flashing blue lights lit up the windows in her apartment.
"Crap. Not again!"
Merry sighed. "Maybe it's something else. The
college kids across the street are kind of loud. After all, it is Halloween."
"I doubt that's why they're here." He strode out into the hall and called up the stairs. "Aunt Dottie, did you call the police?"
She trotted down the single flight of stairs and asked, "Are they finally here? It's about time."
Jason saw them coming up the cement walk and backed into Merry's apartment. "Why did you call them this time?"
"I saw someone skulking around outside. He looked sketchy."
"Is he still out there?"
She shrugged. "Maybe. I can't see him anymore, but I want someone to take a look."
Jason sighed. "Well, leave me out of it, okay?" He shut the door.
Merry folded her arms and tipped her head. "Does your aunt know why you're not crazy about the cops coming here every couple of weeks?"
"I'm sure she must."
"Have you ever said anything to her directly about protecting your privacy?"
He stared at the ceiling and seemed to mull it over. Then he looked at her, shrugged and said, "I thought I did. Maybe she didn't hear me."
"If there's one thing nursing has taught me, it's to communicate clearly. Confusion that isn't clarified can lead to all kinds of misunderstandings—and sometimes dangerous mistakes."
"Yeah, I guess I can see where being assertive might come in handy, especially in your field. I guess I've gotten used to keeping my mouth shut and letting other people fight my battles for me."
"Really? Like who?"
"Referees, agents, coaches, managers…"
"You're kidding. What do you do if your steak is undercooked in a restaurant? Get one of them to send it back?"
"I eat it anyway. There's no such thing as a bad steak." He grinned.
She leaned toward him and looked him right in the eye. "You do that a lot, you know."
"What?"
"Avoid the question by making
a joke. What about female fans who want to manhandle you?"
He grasped her arms and looked her in the eye. "Merry, it happens. I won't lie to you. It's always an uncomfortable situation for me since I don't want to offend them while extricating myself. You never want your fans telling everyone they think you're an ass. I usually joke my way out of it. That's why I want you to buy me tonight. Here." He reached into his pocket and extracted a money clip, fat with green bills. "This should be enough." He had loaded the clip with Benjamins but knew the bidding could go high. He was a celebrity who looked pretty damn good in a tux.
Merry tucked the cash in her clutch purse. "Are you sure you want me to spend all this?"
"It's for charity. Spend it and feel good about it."
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Jason rolled his eyes.
"I'll get it," Merry said. "After all, it is my apartment." She smiled as if trying to reassure him of her protection.
Jason wasn't sure what he should do. He didn't want to hide in the kitchen like a coward. If someone recognized him, he could always say he had come to pick up his date and no one would have to know he lived there… if Dottie could keep her mouth shut.
Yeah, Merry was right. He really did have to tell his aunt specifically not to alert the world to his location by calling the cops at the drop of a hat, and then reinforce that message as often as necessary.
Merry opened the door and said, "Sly?"
"You know this man?" one of the officers asked.
"Yes. He saved my life a couple of weeks ago." She stepped into the hall and shook the stranger's hand. "I wanted to thank you, but I haven't seen you since that night."
"How've you been?" he asked as casually as if one cop didn't have a vice grip on his arm and the other one wasn't barring the door behind him. Dottie made a disgusted sound and marched back upstairs.
"I'm fine. Thanks to you."
The cop holding Sly asked, "What do you mean he saved your life?"
Sly spoke up quickly. "It was nothing. A misunderstanding that could have gotten out of hand, but it didn't. I intervened."
At first Merry hesitated, and then as if she'd just remembered the cops weren't supposed to know about her near-rape she chuckled and said, "Yeah, that's all it was. I can be a bit of a drama queen. It was just a misunderstanding."
"You sure?" the cop at the door asked.
"Yes, it was nothing, really."
Jason studied the man that must have been Dottie's suspicious character "skulking around" outside. He didn't seem homeless. He was well-dressed in an open-collared black shirt, black trousers, and an expensive-looking black wool coat. "What's the problem, officers?" Jason asked.
"Someone called about a prowler."
Sly laughed. "I was leaning against the fence having a cigarette. Not prowling." He made eye contact with the officer a little longer than necessary and said, "So, I'm free to go, right?"
The cop said, "As long as this woman can vouch for you."
Merry nodded. "I vouch."
"Okay," the cop holding his arm let him go with a warning. "Find another fence to lean against as you have your smokes or, better yet, quit. It's a filthy habit."
"Yes, sir," Sly said and saluted.
The guy seemed awfully cavalier for someone detained by police. After the cops left, he turned toward Merry and said, "Well, nice seeing you again. I'll be on my way now."
"Would you like to come in for some coffee? It's pretty chilly out there tonight."
He glanced at each of them and said, "Maybe some other time. It looks like you and your boyfriend are going out on the town."
Jason placed a possessive arm around her waist. "Yes, we were just getting ready to leave."
"So long." Sly waved. "Oh! Before I forget. You know there was someone else skulking around out there in the bushes, right?"
"There was? Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because the person took off as soon as they nabbed me, and if I said 'Oh, it's not me… it's the other prowler you want,' they'd buy that sometime after they bought the Mass Avenue Bridge."
"Do you know who it was?"
Sly shrugged. "Nope. It was a woman with a knit cap pulled over her hair. She may have been a private detective trying to catch a cheating spouse or jealous exgirlfriend stalker or something. She had a camera. Well, have a nice night." As soon as he had jogged down the outside steps, he seemed to disappear into the darkness.
"With my luck," Jason muttered, "it's the paparazzi."
Something about Sly didn't feel right. It was more than his attitude or dark hair and pale skin. It had nothing to do with jealousy, even though he seemed overly interested in Merry. There was something about his black, glittering eyes. The man oozed danger.
***
Well, the nutty professor signed the lease anyway. He must be nuts if he thinks I'm going to let him stay here.
So far, Chad had made sure a champagne cork hit the new tenant in the eye, he'd dimmed and brightened the lights at inopportune times, and slammed every door in the place, and all the professor did was explain it away with logic.
Bummer. I'll have to try harder.
He wished he could show himself somehow. He's not psychic, that's for sure, so I doubt he'd bother with infrared cameras.
Chad only knew two people in the building aware of his existence and only one he could speak to—Morgaine, the witch from across the hall. Maybe when she's in a trance I can talk her into getting this dude to split.
Of course, there was always the landlord and his girlfriend. Chad had heard them talking about paranormal phenomena recently and it seemed as if the nurse had seen some strange things while working at night in a hospital. Maybe he could try to get her attention and see if she responded to anything.
She had mentioned a room that was used only to house supplies after a number of children had reported seeing the same man, dressed in black, watching them from the end of their beds. He'd have thought the grim reaper might be checking up on their conditions, but she said the man always wore a hat. Old Grim wouldn't be caught dead in a hat. Ha ha ha. His pun just occurred to him.
As Chad mulled the situation over, the professor returned "home" to the apartment. I won't bother learning his name since he'll be freaking out and leaving soon.
He had brought a female friend with him. She was oddly dressed, though. She looked like a throwback to Chad's generation… the sixties. She wore a long tiedyed dress and clogs and her hair was long, loose, and mousy brown with gray strands coming in. I didn't think geeks had girlfriends. Shows how much I know.
She closed her eyes and stood in the middle of the room.
Ah ha! He brought a psychic! I knew she couldn't be a girlfriend. So far the professor hadn't impressed him as boyfriend material. He spent all his time on the Internet. And he surfed the most boring sites. He grooved on science and space, mostly. If he spent even half the time looking at porn, I might consider letting him stay—and that's a big maybe. But he was of no use whatsoever as far as Chad was concerned.
The psychic was taking a series of deep cleansing breaths and going into a trance.
"Spirits inhabiting this place, can you hear me?"
What should I do? Answer her? Or perhaps it would be more fun to simply stay quiet so she tells the professor that nobody's home and he thinks he's going nuts.
"Give me a sign that you are here. I can help you move on."
Move on? Don't tell me she's going to open up a path to the light and ask me to go into it! Hey, if they wanted me there, they would have invited me long ago. I have a mind to cross my virtual arms and pout, then maybe she'll go away.
She stayed in her trance. He was glad. He hadn't been looking at things logically. If he wanted the professor out, what better way than to use her voice and scare the shit out of both of them? It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but if she was open to it, he might be able to sink into her head and control her speech. Okay, I've never done this before, so I might not
succeed, but it's worth a shot.
Chad gathered his consciousness at the top of her head and descended. Man, this is the weirdest feeling. It's all warm and squishy in here! Gross.
She must not have liked it either, since she squirmed a bit, then straightened and shivered.
Chad glanced down. Hey—look at me. I have boobs! Nice ones, too. He chuckled. All right. Let's see what I can do.
He tried to align his breathing with hers, first. Then he made her breathe heavily, to add to the drama. As soon as he felt ready, he said in a low, angry voice. "You… must… leave—or die!"