“I told you.”
“To love me back to the light. Yeah, yeah. What does that even mean?”
Her shrug is different this time. Wait…
“You don’t know either, do you?”
She shakes her head. “All I know is that one day I woke up and you were there. Haunting my room—and my mind.”
“Wait… what?”
She steps toward me, a sly grin on her face. “I called you Rocker Boy.”
“What do you mean I haunted your room? I’ve never left this basement.”
“What basement?”
“This!” I swing my arms in a wide arc. Is she delusional?
“A basement? No... we’re in my room.”
I stare at her, confused as hell. “What room?”
“My bedroom.” She points to my blanket bed. “The shaggy rug.” To the sink just outside. “My bathroom.” To the boiler. “My bed. Usually I’m sleeping when you call me.”
“Huh?” I balance my fists on my head, trying to piece something together. Yeah, I’ve got nothing. “So let me get this straight, you think we’re in your room right now. Standing on your… um… shaggy rug?”
“Yes. Where do you think we are?”
She says this like I’m the crazy one.
“We’re in the shithole basement of an abandoned nineteenth century mansion.”
She pales. “You’re in a basement?”
I nod and start pointing as well. “Pile of crappy blankets I sleep on. An old sink I use to clean up. The two boilers. You almost always appear next to that one.” I wave toward the structure she said was her bed. “Hmm… I guess that part makes sense then.”
Her face holds no amusement when I look back. In fact, for the first time since she’s materialized as human, she looks pale as death.
“Are you okay?”
Tears form in her eyes as she shakes her head. “How long have you been stuck here?” she whispers.
I shrug, suddenly embarrassed. Of course an angel like Rachel couldn’t understand my prison. I bet her “room” is filled with sunlight and flowers. The rose smell. Yes, exactly.
“I lost track a long time ago.”
“Milo…” Her hand is so soft on my skin, and I close my eyes. When I open them again, she’s much closer. Too close really. I can’t push her out of my consciousness when she’s this close. Her fingers lift toward my face. I let them rest along my cheek, trace the rough stubble there. “Do you know what I see when I look at you? What I’ve always seen since the first time you appeared in my room?”
A monster.
No!
She releases a quick chuckle. “Well, maybe at first. Gosh, you scared me. You were just this shadow for a while. You’d come and go and come and go.” She quiets, all humor draining from her face. “But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst was the pain. You’d bring so much pain with you. A cloud of it that would explode into my room and drown out any chance I had of reaching you. It was torture watching you suffer. Over and over, night after night. Those visions…” She shudders. “I had to make them stop. I just had to.”
The deep agony in her eyes must be a reflection of mine. It destroys me, guts me to see what my stench did to this beautiful rose. I have no idea what to do with that.
“So that’s what you see when you look at me?” I ask quietly. It makes sense, and I deserve nothing more.
But instead her eyes glisten with fresh tears as she steps forward, reaching for me. “No. That’s what you were when you came to me. That’s not what I saw, not what I see now. What I see is beauty. So much beauty inside you that’s been trapped for so long.” Her fingers trace my lips, forcing me silent. I try to breathe. “More importantly, I see music. I see the one good thing you saved, despite every evil that tried to take it from you. I see music and a man who was so full of good he was willing to give that up as atonement.”
Addie Rose.
“Yes, you gave her up as well.” A smile breaks out through her tears. “You know why? Because you’re good.”
“But all the things I’ve done—”
“You’ve paid. And now you need to let go.”
“And then what? What happens if I let go?”
She looks away.
“What happens, Rachel?”
She still doesn’t look at me as she drops her hand from my face. “I don’t know.”
Now who’s the liar?
Chapter Nine:
Ugly, Beautiful Things
Milo? You awake?
I groan and rub the sleep from my eyes. Rolling toward the window, I notice the pink hues of dawn pressing against the glass.
“Yeah,” I croak out. “Hey, Rachel.” My pulse starts to pound, and suddenly I’m more than awake. When she appears a second later and starts her approach from the boiler, I’m full-on aware.
“Morning, sunshine,” she says, stepping onto my blankets, aka her rug apparently.
“Morning, Grave Lady.”
Even her glare is cute. “Will you stop calling me that?”
I shrug. “What do you expect when you introduce yourself by scaring the shit out of people?”
“I’m not the only one.” She drops beside me, and I adjust to give her more room. I don’t miss the way her gaze runs over my bare chest when the blankets slip down. “Can I ask you something?”
“I’m not sure how there’s anything left for you to ask, but sure.”
She bumps my shoulder with her knee, spreading chills over my skin. And not the ones from those first few days. The strange kind. The electric kind that spark life into cells long dead. I try to will them quiet, but damn it feels good to feel good.
Her expression changes the harder I fight against this foreign fire burning inside. She pulls her long dark hair over her shoulder as she studies me, and I watch her fingers thread through the silky mass. Slowly she pulls, as if daring me to wonder things I have no right to wonder. Her teeth sink into her lower lip, her eyes huge with unasked questions. Damn, was she sent here to save me or torture me?
I clear my throat and roll in the opposite direction. “What’s your question?” I remind her while pushing myself up from the blanket. Her gaze burns through the ink on my back as I reach for a shirt. The fabric is in my hands, soft and worn, so why do I find it so hard to complete a task I’ve done every day of my life?
You’re really beautiful, you know that?
So are you.
I pull the shirt over my head and face her again. I don’t dare to return to the blankets. Blood hasn’t pumped this hotly through my veins in a long, long time. Certainly not since my arrival at 723 Maple Ave. What would it be like to fuck a ghost?
I wince, heat radiating up my neck. “Sorry,” I rush out. “I didn’t mean—”
“Why?” Her smile is downright cruel to a guy trying to do the right thing. It’s then that I notice her irises aren’t dark at all. When they’re clear and free of pain, they’re a crystal blue.
It’s a dangerous game we’re playing. I back further away until I’m pressed against the wall.
“You know why,” I say. “It’s wrong. Something old Milo would say.”
The monster.
She shakes her head and takes a step toward me. The smile still lingers on her lips as she cocks her head. “Maybe you could have been less crude about it, but not everything human is inherently evil. Even the ugliest things started as something beautiful.”
I blink away my reaction to her words. She doesn’t understand. She can’t. Sometimes ugly is just ugly.
“Like Sinclair,” she whispers, taking another step.
Pulling in a deep breath, I brace myself for battle. I sense this version of Grave Lady is more dangerous than the one who came for my soul. What defense do I have against the one who wants to save it?
“You don’t have to fight me,” she continues gently. Another step. “You could just let me in.”
I close my eyes. If I open them will she be gone?
A soft touch trickles over
my hand, sending my fingers into a tight fist. When I look again, she’s inches away, securing my clenched fingers in hers. “You could let someone in. Have you ever done that, Milo? Truly let someone love you?”
Her other hand climbs my chest, pausing over my pounding heart. That traitorous organ is fighting through my ribs to reach her fingers. Thud. Thud. Thud. What would she do with the torn, bloody mass?
I shake my head, not to answer her question but to reject it. None of this makes sense. It hasn’t since the first time she showed up as a swirling phantom in my notebook. Ducking away, I manage to put a safe distance between us again.
“Am I your first assignment?” I ask, sincere, but not exactly kind.
“Assignment?” Her expression sags into a mask.
“Yeah. That’s what this is, right? You get points for rescuing broken souls or something?” Such a dick thing to say. There’s no other description for it, but I’m not strong enough to play this game anymore. I need her to end it since clearly I can’t. Blue eyes darken to black and the hands that so delicately reached for me a moment ago now seem to flicker in the dim light. Her arms drop to her side, and there’s no doubt: she’s fading. It’s what I wanted, right?
“Rachel?” My pulse picks up, panic mounting at the abrupt change. Wait, no! This isn’t what I want. I’m the one rushing to her now, but she doesn’t seem to hear me. The shadow that’s left still shows a head tilted in distress, but nothing else remains of our connection. “Rachel!”
I lunge forward in one last desperate attempt to reach her and land on the floor with a thud.
I roll to my back, ignoring the ache in my shoulder. What the hell just happened? A dead person can’t die, right? But that’s exactly what it looked like as her essence shrank and faded away. Not physically at first, but spiritually there was nothing left of her by the time her body followed suit and disappeared.
Fuck. Am I so vile even ghosts can’t tolerate me?
I clasp my fingers above my head, staring up at the thick beams of the ceiling. They’ve been quiet up there. At least, according to my recently distracted ears that only seemed interested in one voice. One sweet sound that I had to push away because I’m incapable of accepting anything good.
There’s a sick irony to the fact that I’m alone when Lena comes thundering down the stairs a second later. I push myself up just as she jumps the last step and pulls to a stop.
“Milo?”
“Yeah?” I press my fists into the floor and force myself to my feet.
“Why are you…” She shakes her head. “Never mind. It’s Addie.” The confusion on her face is gone, replaced by a concern that has my shoulders tensing.
“Addie Rose? What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know, but she’s not well.”
“Since when?”
Lena shrugs. “The last day or so? But this morning when we woke up she was terrible.”
“Shit.” I don’t even realize I’m pacing until she grabs my arm to stop me.
“You have to come see her. She needs you.”
I rub a hand over my face, heart twisting in my chest. “I can’t, Lena. Can you bring her down here?”
Her eyes narrow. “Are you serious? Take a sick little girl into this disgusting sinkhole because you’re too lazy to go to her?”
“No! I mean, it’s not that. I just… I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. Only for a second. Just long enough for me to see her and—”
She slaps me. We stare at each other, both shocked. Her hand trembles at her side. “Milo, I…” Tears spring to her eyes. Guilt, anger—all the things I never wanted for her, and if not for me they would never have tainted her sweet face. Would she even be here if she hadn’t fallen for my cancer?
“It’s just… it’s Addie.” Her raspy plea guts me where I stand.
I swallow hard, not sure what to say.
“Please, Milo. I’m sorry for slapping you. But please come see her.”
I close my eyes, fists clenched at my sides. “I can’t.”
“Milo, please! I know you’re on this moral isolation thing, but she—”
“No, I mean I can’t.” I force my gaze to hers again, pleading with her now. “I physically can’t.” How long since the last time I tried? Months? Years? God, my knees almost buckle just at the memory, but I need her to understand.
Drawing in a deep breath, I start toward the steps. I haven’t gone this close in ages, terrified of the barrier I can’t see. My legs are already shaking just from the view up the mountain. I could try to explain. Try to make a case for the impossible and hope that maybe she’d be the first person to understand. Understand what? The story I can’t even tell?
I grip the railing, knuckles pale with exertion. Holding on won’t be enough. I already know that. Nothing will, but if this means proving to one damn person I’m not the demon she thinks, I’ll do it. There’s a place that’s worse than this basement. Worse than Sinclair’s vomit-inducing backroom. Worse than the endless cycle of visions that almost obliterated me. It’s the kind of place you can’t comprehend.
“You’re going upstairs?” Lena asks, voice uncertain.
“No. I can’t.”
“What are you doing then?”
“Proving it.”
I swore I’d never go back. But for Addie Rose, I climb.
Chapter Ten:
Color in the Darkness
I wake to the echo of conflict. I want to tell them it’s okay, that I’m okay. I could sell that lie, but my lips won’t move, not even a finger to signal a truce between them. Neither voice seems to notice I’ve returned. Have I?
The darkness in my head is different this time. The pain too. I’m accustomed to the nausea of my visions, but this is a splitting agony my body can’t eject into a bucket. This one will linger, forever maybe.
“He’s moving!”
I sense the ghosts hovering over me, watching, waiting. Something brushes my face, another my hand.
“He’s coming back. Thank god. Milo?”
That one sounds like Rachel, and a strange peace starts diffusing through the pain. Her presence can soothe even the storm of Hell?
I’m here, Rachel.
When my mind calls to her, the pressure on my hand clamps down and seems to draw more of the poison from my system.
Why did you do that?
You know why. Addie Rose—
No. You wanted to punish yourself again.
For what?
Only you know that.
“What’s going on?” Lena asks above me.
“He’s here,” Rachel responds to her.
“How do you know? Why won’t he open his eyes?”
“He can’t yet.”
“Where did he go for that second he disappeared?”
“It wasn’t a second.”
A second? A sharp pain tightens in my stomach. I was only gone for a second? It was a lifetime where I went. More than that—an eternity. I shudder against the memory.
“Look, he’s shaking.” Lena seems pleased and bends close again. I feel her breath on my skin. Why can’t I open my damn eyes? “What’s wrong with him?” she asks.
“He’s still transitioning.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
Stay strong. It will be over soon.
How do you know that?
I don’t. But I won’t leave you.
God it hurts so much, Rachel.
I know. I’m here.
You left me.
No, you pushed me away.
How did I push you away?
Same as always. I can only stay if you want me here.
So how did you make it back?
You called for me.
In my sleep?
You weren’t asleep. I heard your screams, even there.
If I could move I’d probably stagger and fall. That can’t be true, can it? Who is this woman? What is she? I’d say a figment of a tortured brain, except others see her
too.
But you can see me all the time?
Yes, because I want to see you all the time.
A hard jolt rocks my chest. My eyes snap open, but it’s Lena’s arms that find me first.
“Milo! Oh my gosh, I was so worried.”
I stare past her as she embraces me, my gaze locking on Rachel’s. She smiles, clear blue eyes filled with love and relief. Compassion, hope, everything she wants me to accept from her. Can I? Can I not after what I’ve just been through?
“How’s Addie Rose?” My voice is little more than broken air.
Lena touches my cheek. “I don’t know. I’ll go check on her now that you’re awake. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”
“He wasn’t alone.” Rachel’s tone is gentle, without the slightest hint of hostility. Lena glances back as if noticing her for the first time, but I can’t read her expression.
“I’ll go check on Addie Rose,” she repeats after a long pause.
“Thanks, Lena. Really,” I say, forcing my most sincere look. I hope it’s enough. I’ll never forgive myself if she spends one extra second in this place because of me.
She says nothing as she rises and moves toward the stairs. Rachel and I listen to her ascend, hardly moving in my small room.
“Was I really only out for a second?” I ask. The last time it happened I was alone. I’d just arrived at 723 Maple Avenue, so of course I had no intention of staying locked in a basement, no matter how much I deserved it. There was no one waiting to face my terror and confusion when I returned from the abyss that time.
Now I have the girl who knows too much.
“Yes, from what Lena said.”
“You weren’t here?”
“I saw you fall, but you only disappeared from me for a moment. I came to you as soon as you called.”
I swallow hard at the implication. “Help me up?” I ask quietly.
She’s by my side in an instant, securing one arm behind my back and the other around my arm. Together we manage to adjust, and she doesn’t let go as I fight to catch my breath. I lean my head on my knees, and her hand starts running steady arcs over my back. Is everything okay now? No. But maybe some things are.
“What’s it like there?” she whispers.
Haunted Melody: A Ghost Story Page 6