Spirited Away

by Angela Campbell

  Noah rubbed at his shoulder. Tiny tingling sparks still shot in every direction. “How did you do that?”

  “You’re looking at a walking, talking smorgasbord of psychic abilities. Psychic medium. Empath. Healer. Telekinetic. Precognitive. I can do it all. Not all of it well, but it is what it is.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “You need another demonstration?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Sweet Odin, give me strength.” Connor shook his head and glanced around. “I hate dealing with the stubborn ones.” He moved to the window, glanced out the curtain. “Here’s the thing. You’ve got two angry dead people – angry because you moved into their home. They’re especially angry because you brought an attachment with you. Another ghost, pardon the term. They might’ve been fine with you being here, but this other ghost being here is really pissing them off. Add to that, the resident female ghost is protective of Spider and doesn’t like that you’re using her. Follow me so far? I’m using layman’s terms here.” He dropped the curtain back into place.

  “Yeah, but—”

  Connor moved to the other window, followed the edges with his eyes and kept talking. “Add to all of that, there’s some residual energy here. This couple was very much in love. That’s affecting you, and it’s not helping that Spider looks so much like the lady who lived here. It’s screwing with your mind, pulling you toward her, making you possessive. Still with me?”

  “How did you—?”

  “You’re a real brainiac, aren’t you? Where do you keep your spices? Kitchen?” Not waiting for an answer, Connor moved into the other room.

  Noah rose and followed. It took effort, but he finally managed to push the words out. “So how do we stop this? How do we get rid of these ghosts?”

  Murmuring to himself, Connor opened cabinets, inspected bottles – not that Noah had many – of spices, and then answered, “It ain’t gonna be easy, I’ll tell you that. Right now, my concern is you. Your mind is one step away from a full-fledged takeover, and we need to nip that in the bud.” Connor grabbed a few bottles of spices, set them aside, and glanced around. “Cup?”

  Noah handed him one and watched as he poured a mixture into the glass before sticking it under the faucet and filling it with water.

  “Spoon? Something to stir with?”

  Noah gestured to the drawer to his right. “What are you going to do with that?”

  “Not me. You. Here, drink it. Drink it all.” He pushed the cup into Noah’s grip. “It’ll make you stronger, push out the residue. Downside is you’re gonna feel like hell for the next twenty-four hours. Think of it as a detox program. Or the flu. Same difference.”

  Noah took a whiff of the mixture and jerked his head away. Nasty. He glanced at the bottles more closely. Sage. Cayenne pepper. Garlic. Olive oil. A couple of others he couldn’t see. “Then what?”

  “While you’re feeling like hell, I’ll be doing my best to convince the ghosts who live here to cross over. Trust me. It’s in their best interests as well. What worries me is your tag-along. Why is she hiding? What does she want from you? We need her to cross over, too.”

  He was almost resigned to believe everything, except that part. “How could I have had a dead person attached to me, and I never knew it before?”

  “Lots of reasons. She probably wasn’t old or strong enough to communicate with you. Maybe she still isn’t. Maybe she’s learned a thing or two after seeing the ghosts here interact with you.” Connor gestured to the cup. “You gonna drink that or am I gonna have to force it down your throat?”

  Noah took a deep breath and gulped back the liquid. He could barely keep the stuff down. He rushed to the sink, filled the glass with more water, and drank like a starving sailor. Wiping the back of his mouth with his wrist, he glared at Connor. “This had better not be a joke.”

  “Eh. I admit I put the pepper in there because you’ve been an asshole, but trust me. The rest will help.” Connor began putting the spices away. “Tell me. You ever lost anyone close? Your mom? Sister? Aunt?”

  “Thank God, no.”

  “Close family friends? Any woman who was attached to you in life?”

  Noah couldn’t think of any woman being that stupid. “None.”

  “Awesome. I love it when my job is beyond difficult.”

  Noah sat the glass in the sink. “Why are you doing this?”

  “You mean, why aren’t I calling the cops on you and telling Spider what you’re really doing here?” Connor shook his head. “Not my business. I’ll tell you one thing though. You hurt her, and you’ll wish you’d never been born. She’s got a whole army of people in her corner who will swoop in and kick your ass.”

  “Don’t worry. I plan to stay away from her.” She deserved better. He knew that.

  Connor chuckled. “Sorry, dude. Not gonna happen.”

  A frantic knock on the door was followed by a thud and Emma’s voice calling out, “Guys? You still alive in there? I finished early.”

  A wave of dizziness and nausea so strong it weakened every limb in his body passed over him, forcing him to grip the edge of the sink to keep from passing out. Seconds later, he was heaving out the contents of his stomach into the stainless steel container.

  “Good sign.” Connor pushed a towel at his face, put a hand on his shoulder and began whispering something that sounded awfully close to a prayer.

  Eager as always, Emma appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening when she saw him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words came out slurred. “What are you—?” His vision blurred as he felt himself sinking to the floor.

  “Noah!” Emma screamed.

  That was the last sound he heard.

  Chapter 8

  “Costello, please stop humping people! Especially sick ones! Gah!”

  Shoving the dog away from Noah, who had one leg hanging off the bed – an easy target, she had to admit – Spider rolled her eyes and made sure the door was closed to any and all curious animals before turning back to her patient.

  Florence Nightingale had nothing on her. She had an assortment of cold and flu medicines at the ready on the bedside table. Chicken broth sat steaming and ready to be pushed down his throat as soon as he woke up. Possibly sooner, if he didn’t wake up within the next five minutes. She’d been exchanging a cold washcloth for a fresh one every half hour or so. All she had to do was lay it on his forehead, right? That’s what they did in the movies. No idea why, but she was giving it a try. He sure did look cute with it on, anyway.

  All cute and vulnerable. Like a little boy.

  Noah was sprawled across the bed and tangled in the sheets in one of the guest bedrooms and, poor baby, he’d been dead to the world for the past nine hours or so. She and Connor had all but dragged Noah across the street to Zach’s house so she could keep an eye on him. Connor had muttered something about needing to get Noah out of his house, so the residual energy or some such thing could leave his body without interference. Meanwhile, Connor was camping out at Noah’s place, trying to do his mojo-jojo on the dead people there.

  Seriously, though, Spider felt a little cheated. What if he was doing something cool like they did on TV? Chanting and stuff? Or holding a séance. That would be so cool to watch.

  A groan from the man in her care forced her attention back to him. Okay, so having Noah in her bed was a pretty good consolation prize. She might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

  “Mmmm. No.” Thrashing his head so the rag fell away from his forehead, Noah groaned in his sleep, grimacing. “Don’t.”

  Sitting on the side of the bed, Spider nudged his shoulder. “Noah? You okay?”

  Geesh. He was hot to the touch. Burning up. Maybe she should call a doctor or something.

  Blinking his eyes open, he looked at her as if he had no idea who she was. “Emma?”

  She sighed. “The one and only.”

  Smiling, he reached for the rag now settled across his neck and glanced around. “Where am I
?”

  “My place. Well, sort of.”

  “Why am I here?”

  Shushing him, she explained everything, from his epic kitchen flail to the reason Connor had demanded he stay here. “He’s cleansing your house while I take care of you.”

  “You shouldn’t have to take care of me. I can go.” He tried to sit up, wobbled like a Weeble and sank back down. “Or maybe not. Damn, I feel like crap.”

  “You’ve been sleeping though. That’s good, right?”

  Rubbing his eyes, he nodded. “I do feel more rested. I need to take care of some business. Bathroom?”

  “In the hall.”

  Pushing up again, he hesitated before taking more than a step. He was still unsteady, so Spider hopped up and slid her arm around his waist.

  “I don’t need help.”

  “Yes, you do. Stop acting macho and come on.” She urged him forward, trying not to swoon at his warm side pressed into hers. “It’s easier to keep you standing than to pick you up. Trust me on this.”

  He grimaced but let her lead. “Sorry about passing out earlier. I don’t understand what happened.”

  She got him to the bathroom door before untangling herself from him. “This is as far as I go.” She pointed a thumb down the hall. “I’ll go see if I can find some sweats or something of Zach’s to loan you. Sleeping in those jeans can’t be comfortable.”

  She didn’t wait on a response. She hurried into the main bedroom before having a what-the-heck-did-I-just-do moment. Her face grew warm. It felt kind of skeevy to be searching through her boss’s stuff. She did it anyway, quickly finding a white t-shirt and pair of black sweatpants in a drawer. She hurried back down the hall and knocked on the bathroom door. “I’ll sit these outside the door, okay?”

  Costello and Charlie had wandered up to inspect the situation so she made a quick dash to the kitchen, grabbed rawhide treats for both dogs to keep them distracted for a while, made sure Abbott was staying out of trouble, then met Noah back in the hallway.

  “Hope you don’t mind. I opened the new toothbrush in there.”

  “Fine.”

  Even with his hair sticking up funnily, droopy-eyed, barefoot and wrinkled, he looked good standing there. Oh yeah. She had it bad.

  He was steadier on his feet now, but she could tell by the way his shoulders sagged and his feet dragged that he was still weak.

  Trying not to stare as he climbed back into the bed, she reached beside her for the soup. “You need to try and eat this. My very thorough Internet search assured me that it will help you feel better. Plus, Gina always gives me some when I feel under the weather. It’s pretty yummy.” And thankfully, still warm.

  “Gina?”

  She shrugged and pushed a spoonful of the broth toward his mouth. “Our neighbour. She was my mom’s best friend. She checks in on me and my dad every now and then.”

  “You still live with him?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Why?”

  It was strange because that was the question she always expected that no one ever asked. Finally hearing it out loud jarred her. Her hand trembled as she pushed another spoonful between his lips. “It’s complicated.”

  “I’m a captive audience. Enlighten me.”

  He probably already thought she was beyond weird. And pathetic. Might as well add some more logs to that fire. “Main reason is I’m saving up money.” She scooped up more broth and fed it to him. “I want a house of my own. Not an apartment either. A house. I don’t see the point of throwing money away on rent when I can own something.” She considered her words before she spoke them. “Plus, my dad doesn’t take care of himself very well. He’s so busy trying to take care of the city that he neglects things at home. I do his laundry, keep the house somewhat in order, make sure he takes his medicines when he’s supposed to, make sure the bills get paid on time. That kind of thing.”

  “Is he sick?”

  She shook her head. “He has high blood pressure. High cholesterol. He assures me it’s all normal in his line of work, but still.”

  “He has a tough job.”

  She shrugged, shovelled more soup into him. “On the other hand, he argues that he doesn’t need medicine, which is always fun. I have no privacy. My dad expects me to tell him where I am all the time. He was hoping I’d meet a nice young man, get married, and stay barefoot and pregnant for the rest of my life. You should have seen how ballistic he went when I broke up with Paul and then took the job for Zach. It’s frustrating. If he didn’t need me, and if I weren’t so determined to save a twenty percent down payment, I’d—” She snapped her mouth shut.

  He pushed the spoon away. “Maybe he doesn’t need you as much as you think. After all, he does run the police department for a major city.”

  “He does need me.” She forced the spoon past his lips to shut him up more than anything. Glancing down, she realized the bowl was now empty. “Why am I feeding you, anyway?”

  His boyish smile grew bigger. “I was wondering the same thing.”

  She sat the bowl back onto the nightstand. “Sorry, I was having a Florence Nightingale moment.”

  “No complaints here. Thank you for taking care of me.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s nice to have someone who lets me take care of them.” She pursed her lips. “Wait. Did that sound weird? Cause I just had a flashback to the movie ‘Misery,’ and I promise I’m no Kathy Bates. I don’t want to break your legs or anything.”

  “No, it’s not weird. Well, that last part was. Kind of.” His hand reached out from under the sheets and covered hers. His fingers were still too hot to the touch as they squeezed hers. His eyes also had that glazed sheen of sickness that told her he wasn’t completely well yet, but he did look better. Not as edgy as he’d been looking the past couple of days. “I get it.” His smile faded. “Is that why it bothers you that I don’t call you Spider?”

  “Wait, what?”

  He smiled again. “Because calling yourself that is part of your independence. I’m guessing your dad hates the name. And he hated the blue hair, didn’t he?”

  She thought about how much she was comfortable admitting. “I might have decided to experiment with certain things in an effort to remind certain people that I’m my own person.” Ultimately, she’d been trying to remind herself of that more than anyone.

  He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but shook his head instead.

  “What?” She poked him in the chest. “Out with it.”

  “Why wait so long? The hair, the nickname, your clothes – that can all be summed up as normal teenage rebelliousness. You’re twenty-five.”

  Grinding her teeth, she started to leave, but no way would she let him know how much those words needled her. Paul had once said a similar thing. “Is there an age limit on finding yourself? Cause I missed that memo.”

  He shifted so he could look at her, his gaze raking over her face as if inspecting every freckle, every pore. Several seconds passed, but she refused to show how uncomfortable his perusal was making her. “You were with Paul when you were a teenager, you lost your mom and you probably felt the need to cling onto your father after that.”

  He was good. Too good – or was she so obvious? She leaned back against the headrest, slid her legs up beside his on top of the covers. “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Noah. This isn’t some phase I’m going through. For the record, I like having funky hair and a cool nickname. And my clothes?” She tugged at her t-shirt that read “People HATE when sentences do not end the way they potato” and glared at him. “My clothes are awesome!”

  “I didn’t mean to imply anything negative, Spider. I’m sorry.” His eyes gleamed with sincerity. “I want to understand you better.”

  Her temper waned, hearing him call her by the nickname she’d fought hard to own. Were they having an honest-to-God breakthrough? Shouldn’t she be happier that he’d finally honoured her request to call her Spider?

  Picking at some dog fur that clung
to the bed, she shrugged. “I don’t mind that you call me Emma.”

  It was the truth, even if she was just now realizing it. Hearing her given name in his voice sent an unexpected thrill of pleasure coursing through her veins. It seemed somehow intimate.

  “Good. Cause it suits you. A pretty name for a pretty woman.”

  She squirmed. “Please. I’m no model.”

  “Why would you want to be?” He scrunched his face. “They’re too skinny. A bunch of sticks, all of ‘em.”

  She giggled. “Wait. Should I be offended?” She feigned a look of horror. “Did you just imply that I’m fat?”

  “Voluptuous. Hardly fat.”

  Voluptuous. Grrrrr. Paul had used to call her that after he went through the Tool Academy, but she’d never gotten the impression it was a compliment. You’re too voluptuous, Emma. For God’s sake, put a sweater on when we’re around other people. Her jaw stung with pain from how hard she bit down to keep her mouth shut. Glancing down, she realized their fingers were now linked. When had that happened? “I have big boobs. Too big.”

  “A woman’s boobs can never be too big. Trust me on this.”

  “You’re such a guy.”

  “Glad you noticed.”

  Smiling, she slid down lower, so low they were practically face-to-face. “What about your family? Are you close to them?”

  His smile fell, but he didn’t let go of her hand. “I have two little sisters who have me wrapped around their fingers and they know it, an older brother who’s a pain in the ass, and my mom is…” His lips tugged up again. “She’s great. She got remarried a couple of years ago. Nice guy. I suppose she could have done worse.”

  “Oh. Is your dad alive?”

  He nodded. “Unfortunately.”

  Spider’s brow rose in surprise, and shock. Not too many people said stuff like that about their parents without a reason. “That’s heavy.”

  He pulled his hand away and reached for the nightstand beside him. “What time is it, anyway? Where’s my phone?”

  Disappointment chased the shock from her thoughts. “Um, I don’t know.” She considered him carefully. “Do you need it?”