A World Apart (Shades Below, #1)

by Oliva, L. J. K.

  "My stand..." It took her a moment to catch up. Lena pinched the spot between her eyes. "Damn it, I don't care about my stand mixer!" She ignored MacMillian's arched eyebrow. "Jimmy, you're dead."

  Jimmy raised his hands. "Look, I'll be over first thing, I promise. Please just... don't fire me. I need this job, all right? I got a girl—"

  "Jimmy." This was worse than she'd expected. What the hell had happened to him? "I need you to stop for a second and listen to me. You're dead. You've been dead for two days, maybe longer. Somebody killed you."

  Jimmy stared at her, jaw slack. Slowly, his lips lifted into a smile. "I get it. You're fucking with me. Haha, okay, very funny. Now when do you want me to check out your—"

  "Jimmy." For the first time in her career, she wished spirits were corporeal. She was itching to grab Jimmy by the shoulders and shake him. "Look at my face. I'm not kidding."

  Jimmy's eyebrows went up, then down again. His expression turned black. "Get out of here."

  "Damn it—"

  "You're fucking crazy." He pointed a shaky finger at the door. "Get the fuck out of here. And take your goon squad with you." He squinted at MacMillian. "Some good squad. Doesn't even have the balls to look at me."

  Lena looked at MacMillian too. He stiffened. "What?"

  "The fuck do you mean, 'what'? You got some kind of problem?" Jimmy took a step forward. Blotches of color marked his cheeks. "Look at this tough guy. Something wrong with your hearing, you son of a bitch?"

  Lena stealthily turned her palms outward. Threads of energy littered the room. Slowly, carefully, she started gathering them to her. "He can't see you, Jimmy. He can't hear you, either. Only I can." She took a deep breath. "I'm a medium. I communicate with the dead."

  "Stop saying that!" Jimmy dug his fingers into his hair. He jerked his hands back and stared at them, his face a mask of confused horror. "What the..."

  Lena's palms began to tingle. She kept her arms at her sides and her voice calm. "Like I explained to you before, you don't have a physical body anymore. Things probably don't feel the same."

  "Shut up!" Jimmy's entire face went purple. The dishes next to the sink started to rattle.

  MacMillian's hand firmed on his gun. "Lena."

  Lena didn't answer. White fire streaked down her fingertips. Just a little more. She just needed a little more...

  A plate crashed to the ground. The sound was barely audible behind the roaring in her ears. "Jimmy, you need to calm down. You're going to hurt someone."

  "Think so?" A second plate crashed after the first. "Seems to me there's no one in this room I'd mind hurting." Three more plates followed the first two. Crash, crash, crash.

  "Lena." MacMillian had his gun in hand, the barrel aimed at the floor. "Tell me what's going on."

  The roar in her ears grew louder. She struggled to talk above it. "He's unstable. It happens sometimes with new spirits who haven't had a chance to adjust." Damn it, she should have realized something about Jimmy was different this time, shouldn't have hit him with the reality of his death so soon. "His emotions are forming a poltergeist. You should get out of here."

  "You should both get out of here!" Jimmy screeched.

  "I'm not going anywhere." MacMillian's tone left no room for argument. "Not without you."

  Lena fumbled for the backpack and yanked it open. Her hands were burning. She gritted her teeth and grabbed a small ceramic box and skein of ribbon from the main compartment. "Look, that's real nice and all, but-" A plate sailed past her head, shattered against the far wall. "Damn it, Magnum, just wait outside!"

  The grim look on his face told her he would do no such thing. She didn't have time to argue. Her hands were crackling with energy. She cradled the box in them and directed the energy towards it, envisioned it wrapping around the tiny container again and again. The heat peaked.

  Then suddenly, it was gone. Liquid numbness took its place, spread up her wrists, her arms. Lena took a deep breath and turned to Jimmy.

  He must have seen something new in her eyes, because his own bugged. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm taking you somewhere safe until we figure all this out." Lena raised the box. "Don't fight this. I don't want to hurt you."

  Jimmy started to shimmer.

  Lena hissed. "Oh, no you don't." She focused on his fading form and visualized chains of energy streaming from the box. Jimmy resolidified. His mouth formed an exaggerated O.

  "What the—"

  "Jimmy Vaspurkan." Lena concentrated on him. "With faith and intent I bind you. With power and will I bind you."

  The chains wrapped around Jimmy's arms and legs, then began to recede back into the box. Jimmy shrieked and dug in his heels. His face twisted with rage.

  Lena ignored it. "Into this vessel you are bound. You may not go free."

  Jimmy bucked hard as he slid towards the box. Lena poured all the energy she'd collected into the bands around him. Slowly but surely, they dragged him into the container.

  The instant he was fully inside, she snapped the lid shut. She envisioned a few more bands wrapping around the outside for good measure. Finally, she allowed herself to relax. Dizziness washed over her. She swayed back a step.

  MacMillian was in front of her before she even registered movement. One large hand braced her shoulder. "Easy. I don't know what that was, but it looked intense."

  That was a cute word for it. Even with all the residual energy in the room, she'd still had to dig deeper, tap her own reserves at the end. Jimmy had been stronger than she'd expected. Later, she'd examine what the hell that meant.

  For now, it just felt good to lean against someone.

  Without thinking, she bent forward and rested her forehead against his solid chest. MacMillian didn't say anything, but his energy shifted. Lena straightened immediately. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

  "It's fine." He stepped back and raked a hand through his hair. "Are you, I mean, is everything...?"

  "Yeah." Lena bent down and picked up the skein of ribbon. "I'm okay. Sometimes spirits get violent. We have protocols in place to deal with them."

  "Protocols." His voice darkened. "I'm not sure I like that word."

  Lena straightened again. "It's not as ominous as it sounds. Volatile spirits are dangerous, not just to the living, but to themselves and other spirits as well. Mostly, they're just adjusting. The Wayfare is set up to contain them until they've come to terms with being dead."

  MacMillian's face went gray. He stared at her. "You mean to tell me you just let a bunch of angry ghosts have their run of the place?"

  Lena snorted. "Not likely." She unwrapped the ribbon from its spool. "The Wayfare isn't a prison, but there are certain places inside it specifically built to confine hazardous spirits. If and when they no longer pose a threat, we move them to less limiting quarters. Until then..."

  MacMillian shook his head. "This is insane."

  Lena shrugged. "Maybe." She began winding the ribbon around the box, careful to make several passes over the lid. "But it's the reason there isn't an epidemic of angry ghosts rampaging around the city. You're welcome." She finished and checked her handiwork, then tucked the box back inside the backpack.

  MacMillian started to speak, stopped and shook his head again, then started over. "So, what now?"

  Lena sighed and looped the backpack over her shoulder. "Honestly? I have no idea. I've never seen anything like this before. Jimmy clearly has no memory of the last time he came to me. It's like he's been wiped and rebooted."

  The concept was more disturbing than she wanted to let on. Maybe Cyrus would have an idea. Or maybe she just needed to rest. Either way, she was more than ready to leave the dingy, depressing little room behind. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

  MacMillian tucked her behind him and stepped into the hall first. She couldn't remember the last time someone's immediate instinct had been to protect her. Lena clamped down on the little thrill that thought elicited. "I can take care of myself, you know."

&
nbsp; "Sure you can."

  His tone instantly iced over whatever it was she'd been experiencing. She bristled and tightened her grip around the backpack strap. "I mean it."

  He didn't answer. He peered one way, then the other, then motioned for her to follow. The only option was to do as ordered. Lena gritted her teeth and stepped out behind him. They headed back towards the stairs without a word.

  They were halfway there when she felt the unmistakable tickle of eyes on the back of her neck. A quick scan of the hallway confirmed her suspicions. The last door on the end was ajar, revealing a sliver of a woman's face.

  Lena touched MacMillian's arm. He paused and turned to her with one raised eyebrow. She tipped her chin towards the woman and murmured, "Think she knows something?"

  MacMillian's eyes followed hers. His lips thinned. "One way to find out." He started down the hallway. "Ma'am? Mind if we have a word?"

  The woman assessed them with walleyed intensity, then cracked her door open wider. The faint odor of ammonia drifted from her room. Lena forced down a gag and schooled her face to what she hoped was a neutral expression.

  If MacMillian was similarly affected, he didn't show it. He stopped outside the woman's door. Before he could get a word out, the woman spoke.

  "Are you here about the infestation?"

  MacMillian stiffened. "I don't... We aren't-"

  Lena cleared her throat. "I'm afraid bugs aren't really our specialty."

  "Not bugs." The woman shook her head vigorously. "Ghosts. Whole place is crawling with 'em."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lena blinked. "What did you say?"

  The woman finally opened her door all the way. Wide eyes and cherubic cheeks made her look younger than she probably was. Unkempt red pigtails framed her face. "Ghosts." She paused. "That is why you're here, right?"

  Lena traded glances with MacMillian. She knew what he was thinking. Raggedy Ann hair, purple sweat pants, faded I Love Lucy t-shirt; the woman was a postcard basket-case.

  Oh, well. It wasn't like they had anything else to go on. Lena took a deep breath. "As a matter of fact, that is why we're here. What's your name?"

  The woman nodded sagely. "Figured. 'Bout time someone started looking into it." She stuck out a hand. "Name's Val. Been here a year, nine months, three days. Born in Celina, Ohio. Very important town." She lowered her voice. "It has the main library for the whole of Mercer County."

  Lena ignored the incredulous look MacMillian was giving her and clasped the woman's hand in a brief shake. "Sounds impressive. What can you tell me about the ghosts?"

  Val's eyes bugged. "There's ghosts in Celina?"

  Lena's forehead started to throb. "No. I don't know. I mean, what can you tell me about the ghosts here?"

  "Oh. Should'a said so." Val's voice lowered again. "Started 'bout a month back. People would turn up missing, an' ghosts started showin' up." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I know most of 'em. Shorty, Seven Up, Jewel, Preacher Stan. Been bummin' with the Preacher for years. Just up an' vanished, one after 'nother."

  Lena drew her brows together. "I'm sorry."

  Val's wandering eyes jerked to her face. "You... believe me?"

  Lena cringed. The last thing she needed was to get sucked into the delusions of an unstable woman. She chose her words carefully. "I don't disbelieve you."

  That was apparently enough for Val. She stepped into the hallway, pulling her door shut behind her. "Come on. Wanna show you something."

  Lena hesitated, and looked to MacMillian. He shrugged and raised the hand that wasn't clasping his cane. "This is your show, remember?"

  She ground her teeth. Even now, he thought she was a joke. Well, if he wanted to waste time judging her, he could. She had a job to do. With as much pride as she could muster, she spun on her heel and started after Val.

  The woman led them around a bend at the end of the hall. Lena stuck close to her heels. Weird energy buzzed all around her, but she was fairly certain it had nothing to do with spirits. Static from multiple televisions buzzed through the thin walls, occasionally punctuated by strings of raucous babble or frenzied cursing. A rank blend of smells clung to the carpets: pot smoke, urine, body odor and unrefrigerated food.

  Unable to stop herself, Lena raised a hand over her nose.

  Seemingly oblivious, Val continued further and further down the hallway. Lena followed, increasingly hesitant. Behind her, mistrust radiated from MacMillian in waves. She didn't blame him. Every step they trusted Val was a step that took them farther from the stairs... and the only exit.

  Val finally stopped outside one of the corner units at the end of the hall. A strand of multicolored Christmas lights lined the doorframe. She absently touched a green bulb and turned to them. "You were in Jimmy's room. Figured you'd want to check out Tree's place, too."

  It was the most coherent thing Lena had heard her say, but it still didn't make any sense. "Tree?"

  "Christmas Tree. Least, that was her name when I knew her on the streets. She an' Jimmy been going together a few months now." Val jiggled the doorknob, scowled. "Be right back."

  She retreated down the hallway a few rooms and banged on one of the doors. "Luther? Get out here!"

  A muffled curse sounded from inside. A few seconds later, the door jerked open. A tall black man with faded clothes and a grim expression blinked out. "Damn, Val, I was sleepin'. The fuck you want?"

  Val tossed her head towards the corner apartment. "Got some folks here finally checking on the ghost problem. Need to get into Tree's room, but it's locked."

  What exactly the man thought of Val's "ghost problem", Lena couldn't tell. He folded his arms and leaned against the door frame. "An' if I help?"

  Val tipped a shoulder and cocked her hip. "I could maybe stop by later, you get us in there now. Could maybe even stay the night, you promise to keep all this a secret."

  Lena stared at her.

  Luther nodded sharply. "Fine." Without changing expression, he reached out and bussed her under the chin. "I'll get my tools."

  A few minutes later, they all stood clustered outside the door at the end of the hall. Luther handed Val a small pouch of what looked like professional lock picks. She held it open, and after a moment's musing, Luther plucked two slender instruments from the collection.

  Lena stayed back while he worked. MacMillian's solid presence at her side was oddly comforting. He leaned down and muttered into her ear, "We're wasting our time."

  She glanced up at him. "How can you be so sure?"

  He tilted his head towards Val. "Has it crossed your mind that sometimes crazy people are just, well, crazy?" His voice didn't rise above a rumbled whisper. "That woman is obviously disturbed. We should leave. Now."

  Before Lena could answer, Luther straightened. "It's open." He retrieved his tools from Val and put away the two he'd been using. He caught her eye. "Eight. Yeah?"

  Val flashed him a girlish smile, leaned up and pecked him on one pockmarked cheek. "You got it."

  He nodded, then shuffled back to his room without a backwards glance. Val swept a hand towards the door. "We goin' in?"

  Lena tried to quash the nausea churning in the pit of her stomach. Couldn't. "You really didn't have to do that."

  Val's forehead furrowed. "Do what?"

  "Offer..." Lena waved an awkward hand. "You know... to that man. We could have found another way."

  The other woman blinked. "You think Luther'll talk?"

  "No." Lena rubbed the bridge of her nose. "No, that's not what I meant. I just..." She trailed off. Val had a blank expression on her face. Lena looked up at MacMillian. Come on, help me here.

  He shrugged.

  Lena scowled and turned back to Val. "Nothing. It's nothing. Thank you. Should we go inside?"

  Val's face lightened. "Sure!" She whirled and reached for the door.

  MacMillian shook his head. "I'm telling you, this is a waste of time."

  But this time, Lena wasn't listening. She stared through the o
pen door into the cramped, cluttered room. In the center, surrounded by clothes, dishes, half-drained liter bottles of Orange Crush, sat a bed.

  In the center of the bed sat a woman.

  At least, she would have been sitting on it, had she still possessed a physical body. Her noncorporeal form didn't leave as much as a dent in the sheets. Her knees were drawn up to her chin, her wasted arms wrapped around them. She stared into the space in front of her, seemingly oblivious to their presence.

  Lena shot MacMillian a meaningful look. His eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

  She started forward. "So much for crazy people just being crazy."

  "Wait." He dropped a heavy hand on her arm. "Are you sure this is safe?"

  She snorted. "Are you kidding? What part of any of this has struck you as safe?"

  His lips thinned, but he removed his hand. Lena returned her focus to the woman on the bed.

  Val was already inside. She turned when Lena came up beside her. A stricken expression marked her face. "Tree," she breathed.

  Lena reached out and gave her arm a quick squeeze, then slowly approached the bed. "Tree?"

  The woman looked at her, blinked, as if just noticing she wasn't alone. "You can see me?"

  Lena nodded, and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

  Tree faced forward again, stared out the room's curved bay window. "I'm dead, aren't I."

  Not a question.

  Lena cringed. "I'm afraid so."

  "Shit." Tree stared down at her hands. "Always knew this neighborhood was dangerous. Just never figured on becoming a goddamn statistic, you know?"

  MacMillian cleared his throat from his position in the doorway. Lena glanced at him, then turned back to Tree. "Listen, my associate and I are trying to figure out what's been going on around here. Can you tell us anything about what happened to you?"

  Tree's eyes shot to her face, hardened. Lena bit back a groan. She knew that look: suspicion. What else had she expected? She'd known Jimmy, but to Tree, she was just an outsider asking personal questions.

  She was still trying to figure out a way to break the ice when Val sat down on the bed beside her. "Tree, honey," she locked eyes with the spirit, "you can talk to this lady. She's here to help. You want help, don't you?"