Divine and Dateless

by Tara West

  Grim knelt beside Jack, patting the back of his head. "What is it boy?" He followed Jack's gaze to the television. "Who is that?"

  "My mom," I sniffled, fearing I'd unleash a whole new set of waterworks if he asked any more about her.

  "Not her. Him." He pointed to a shadowy figure lurking just beyond my headstone.

  "I don't know." I rose on shaky legs. My heartbeat began to quicken as a man in a hooded jacket approached my mom. Though I couldn't make out his features, the way he moved like a cat on the prowl told me he was up to no good.

  When I saw the shiny silver blade emerge from his coat pocket, panic sent my heart into overdrive. Instinct took over, and I lunged at the television, slapping my hands against the screen. "Mom! Look out!"

  And then something totally unexpected happened. She jerked up and looked straight at me, as if she could see me through the screen.

  "Ash?" She gasped, hands flying to her face.

  The hooded dude dropped his knife, screamed, and took off like a bolt of lightning.

  I gaped at her as her eyes watered with fresh tears. She reached out, swatting the air as if she was trying to touch me.

  "Oh, baby," she cried, "is that you?"

  I drew back as the screen flashed red and then bright white. A blaring alarm that reminded me of a fog-horn sounded from the speakers, and I had to shield my ears against it.

  Jack howled as a message flashed across the screen. "Ashley MacLeod, stay in your apartment. The Supernatural Intervention Agency will be with you shortly."

  Fear iced over my limbs as I numbly turned to Grim. "What just happened?"

  The color had drained from his face, and he gaped at me with a wide-eyed expression. "What the blazes? You ghosted!"

  The Supernatural Intervention Agency had a really fancy limousine. We got to ride in it for my “interview.” Apparently, ghosting was some sort of big deal. I was a nervous wreck the whole way, though Jack was as happy as a clam. He got to ride with his head out the window while his wagging tail smacked my head.

  Grim's face had been draped in the same scowl since we were ushered out of my apartment. He hadn't been very forthcoming with information when I'd asked him why they wanted to see me. Although he'd reassured me he'd get me out of any trouble, he mostly sat there like a big sulking grumpasaurus mumbling swear words.

  I couldn't help but “ooh” and “aah” when we pulled through iron gates and down a long drive flanked by manicured hedges and pristine trees. At the end of the drive was a huge mansion surrounded by several other smaller, similar two-and three-story houses. I had no idea level thirteen had a nice side of town.

  Whoever these supernatural people were, they sure had a lot of credits.

  By the time the butler ushered us inside a grand study with ancient texts, a massive mahogany desk, and an expensive looking Persian carpet, I was convinced I was either in really big trouble or about to get an award.

  As my dog sniffed the perimeter of the room, I warily eyed him, hoping he wouldn't get the urge to drag-race his ass across the carpet. I knew I didn't have enough credits for that dry cleaning bill.

  The recessed double-doors slid open, revealing a tall man with chestnut skin dressed in an expensive-looking burgundy silk jacket and dark slacks. With just a touch of grey along the edges of his black hair, he appeared to be in his early fifties. I could tell by the tilt of his chin and the way he carried himself he was a man of some importance. I only hoped he was on my side.

  When Jack came up to him and sniffed his pants, he halted, a mixture of annoyance and confusion crossing his features.

  "So it's true," he said as he waved Jack away. "Your dog has been waiting for you all this time. Remarkable." The awe in his voice was a contradiction to the ire in his gaze when Jack licked his hand.

  "Here, Jack," I called, and he thankfully trotted over and sat at my feet.

  "Ashley MacLeod." The man held out a hand and smiled, revealing a set of brilliant white teeth. "So nice to meet you."

  "Hi," I answered, taking his hand and trying not to buckle under the pressure of his strong grip.

  "I'm Raj," he said with an elegant air, "but the other apparitions call me Shadow. Won’t you have a seat?"

  He motioned toward a gold brocade sofa with fabric so pristine, I feared my butt dent would ruin it.

  I sat at the edge, trying hard not to let my weight sink in. I cringed when Grim plopped onto the bench beside me, causing the antique hinges to squeak under his weight.

  Jack let out a soft whimper before lying at my feet.

  "I was just going over your file." Shadow sat in an upholstered leather chair across from me and held up a folder that was about as thick as a phone book. He set the book in his lap and began flipping through the pages.

  I swallowed back a ball of nervous tension, worrying what incriminating evidence could possibly be bound in that book.

  When Grim cleared his throat and began drumming his fingers on his knee, I was tempted to kick him, but I figured I'd already caused enough of a commotion for one day.

  As Shadow continued to scan my file, smiling down at each page and even occasionally chuckling, heat bloomed in my cheeks. Had he read about my tampon theft? Or maybe that silent and deadly period fart I tried to blame on a distressed client? There was no telling what Purgatory television had caught me doing. Had I any idea my dirty laundry would one day serve as amusement for a supernatural supervisor, I would have joined the nunnery straight out of high school. I was certain my sorority days required at least two more phone books.

  The stretch of silence had become too much to bear, and like always when I was under pressure, my lid exploded, and I started babbling. "Am I in trouble? Because I had no idea I was going to pop through my TV. Honestly, I was just panicked because some guy was going after my mom with a knife."

  He looked up from my book of shame, smiling widely. "You’re not in trouble. Far from it. I brought you here to offer you a job."

  Say what?

  "A job? What kind of job?" I tried not to sound too eager, but I was ready to mow this guy down. Anything had to be better than my new assignment.

  He must have seen the excitement in my overly expressive features; his dark eyes lit with recognition.

  "Working on one of our squad teams for the Supernatural Intervention Agency."

  "I was afraid of that," Grim groaned.

  Ahhh, the sleeping giant has awakened. So nice of him to offer an opinion when he's been of little help this whole time.

  A shiver stole up my spine, and I could have sworn the room temperature dropped twenty degrees as an arctic chill passed between the two men.

  Shadow offered Grim a polite smile, but I wasn't fooled. He looked like a barracuda eager for his next meal. "I think we may have crossed paths on level one before. Aedan O’Connor, right? You’re a Grim?"

  "Yeah," Grim grumbled. If his eyes had been guns, Shadow would have been full of holes.

  "So you two are friends?" He leaned back and assessed Grim with a cool glare.

  "She’s my girl," Grim said with a note of possessiveness that reminded me of my dog guarding his bone, as if me walking out on him last night and telling him I needed my space had never happened.

  As if!

  "Ahhh." Shadow chuckled. "So you’d rather see your girl pick up garbage in the rat-infested slums of level two than hold a prestigious job as a member of The Agency?"

  Grim turned to me with an accusatory look. "Picking up garbage?"

  I looked away, too embarrassed to meet his eyes as memories of our lovemaking came flooding back. "We were kind of busy last night, so I never got to tell you. Lovelace assigned me to level two park clean-up."

  Grim grabbed my hand, holding it possessively in his lap. "You let me handle Lovelace. You’re not joining a ghosting squad."

  "Ghosting squad?" I gasped. "As in you go to Earth and haunt places?"

  Shadow rose from his chair. "That’s exactly what we do, and for many of us, it to
ok years of training to be able to manifest an aura that can be seen thirteen levels away."

  My jaw dropped. "Really?"

  "You have a rare talent, Ashley MacLeod." He walked up to the sofa, bearing down on me with stony features. "We need you to come work for us."

  I turned to Grim. "Did you hear him? He said I have a rare talent."

  Grim stood, puffing out his chest like a rooster preparing to fight. "You’re not working for them, Ash." Though he was talking to me, his gaze was centered on Shadow, and I could have sworn his chest inflated another four inches. Shadow, who was built more like a bean stalk than a hulking giant, probably knew when he was beat. He smirked at Grim, assessing him from head to toe with a cool glare.

  Jack whimpered beside me. He was probably tired of all this testosterone overload, too. I knew I was certainly sick of Grim trying to run my life. One night in the sack, and he thought he owned me.

  "Excuse me?" I stood and waved my hands in Grim's face. "I don’t know how you treated women in your day, but in my day, we get to make our own decisions."

  Shadow shook his head, snickering. "These modern girls have such spirit, don’t they?" He walked over to an ornate mahogany bar and poured himself a glass of white wine. I licked my lips as I watched him drink. It sure would have been nice had he offered me something.

  "You haven’t mentioned the dangers of the job," Grim said in a low grumble.

  "Because there are none. We haven’t had a breach in over fifty years." Shadow eyed him over the rim of his glass.

  Sheesh. What kind of host was he that he couldn't offer me a ginger ale?

  Grim widened his stance, folding his arms. "Which means you’re about due for another."

  Shadow downed the rest of his wine, and then closed his eyes while pinching the bridge of his nose. Either he had a bad migraine, or he was tired of Grim's attitude. I suspected the latter. After a drawn-out pause, he opened his eyes, focusing his gaze solely on me. "I’ll tell you what, Ashley. You can come work for The Agency for a few weeks. If you don’t like it, you can go back to your other job sifting through rubbish on level two. Although if you stay with us, we'll assign you a new creditor, one who works solely for The Agency."

  No more Lovelace! Where do I sign?

  "Ash, ghosting is dangerous." Twin storms brewed beneath Grim's eyes as his voice dropped to a menacing growl. "Very dangerous."

  I pushed back my shoulders, fixing Grim with my most determined expression. I appreciated his concern, but it was time I made some decisions for myself. "I’ll be the judge of that."

  Though I suspected Grim might be right, it wasn't like I was left with much choice. So what if he said he could handle Lovelace? What if that was an empty promise to get me out of ghosting? After all, if Grim had been able to deal with my creditor, why hadn't he helped me before? Shadow had offered me two weeks, which was plenty of time to decide if ghosting was right for me.

  Grim did a lot of grumbling when I left him with Jack and Shadow took me to what looked like a surveillance room. There were dozens of monitors lining the walls, each showing images from the Seattle area. The monitors rotated different scenes, mostly houses of worship, abandoned homes, and cemeteries.

  One monitor, though, was stuck on the cemetery where I was buried. My mom was thankfully no longer there. The screen next to that one was focused on my mom, who was dripping all over my sister's leather car seat and frantically trying to explain she'd seen my spirit. My sister was doing her best to calm down my mom, but it obviously wasn't working as Mom alternated between laughing and sobbing.

  It was a hard scene to watch. Really hard. As in, I was fairly certain I'd rather lie spread eagle at an all-day pap smear, foot stirrups, tongs of torture, and all, than watch my mom go on about my spirit. My sister probably thought she’d lost her mind.

  After I asked Shadow to turn off my mom's screen, he proceeded with the first test, a reenactment of what had happened with my mother, only instead of her at the cemetery, there was an orb of glowing light hovering above my tombstone. Why did I get the feeling that light was a ghost?

  Shadow had me try to summon my feelings of panic when I'd seen the man with the knife and then scream into the television. The light in the screen pulsated a few times and then dimmed.

  "Did I do it right?" I asked.

  "Perfectly," he answered with broad smile. After that he ran a bunch of strange psychic aptitude tests on me, such as asking me to guess the word he was thinking and to predict the next card he'd pull from a pile.

  Having failed all of the tricks, I only hoped I wasn't being graded on my psychic ability. I clearly didn't have the sixth sense. Heck, with my bad luck dating streak, it should have been obvious I couldn't read people or the future.

  Someone rapped on the door. Shadow grumbled something under his breath, leaned over and popped open the handle. Two men entered from the hallway; one was a buff dude in surfer shorts and a ripped T-shirt with a shaggy strawberry blond mane, and a short, scruffy beard to match. The other was an old man with ebony skin and a gleaming bald head. His spine was bent at an acute angle. If it hadn't been for the cane he clutched, he would have probably fallen over.

  The old man hobbled up to me, the scrutiny of his sharp gaze making me feel smaller than a grain of dust. "We heard you found a new candidate. We came to see for ourselves."

  "Got a little spy checking up on us?" Shadow's laughter sliced through the air like a steel blade.

  "No." The old man flashed a sideways smile. "Our telepath saw her."

  Shadow rolled his eyes. "I see, and you trust her rambling nonsense?"

  The old man shrugged, the intensity of his gaze sharpening to a fine point. "She gets it right sometimes, and I think she was dead-on this morning."

  "Ashley." Shadow nodded toward the men. “Crow and Boner, two of our ghosters from Delta House.”

  "Hi." I waved at them. When the surfer dude called Boner flashed a wide, warm grin, I instinctively added. “You can call me Ash.” I only hoped the dude got his nickname because his death was related to choking on a chicken bone, not a Viagra overdose.

  Boner stepped forward and held out a hand. “You just came from level twelve?” He shook my hand so hard, I feared he was going to pull my arm out of socket.

  “No. I died last week.”

  “No shit,” he said with an awe that could only have been perfected by years of smoking weed. “Sorry.” He ran a hand through the scruff on his chin. “It’s just, it took me years to make the squad.”

  “Ashley has an unusually powerful aura,” Shadow said in a haughty tone, his gaze focused on the older man he’d called Crow. “Which is why you will understand why I need to keep her by my side at Alpha house.”

  Crow leaned forward, gripping the ball of his cane. “Actually, I don’t understand. You promised us the next candidate. We’ve got the smallest squad in The Agency.”

  Shadow turned up his chin. “Exactly, and I don’t think a small unit can handle a ghoster with such raw power. She’d engulf you with her energy.”

  Crow shook his head, snickering. “I’ve been ghosting for near thirty years.”

  Shadow’s shoulders bunched as he slowly stood and smiled condescendingly at Crow. “A drop in the bucket to those of us in Alpha Unit, which is why we’re taking Ashley. You will get the next candidate. I promise.”

  The old man rolled his eyes. “Where have I heard that before?”

  Shadow laid a hand across his heart. “Crow, I give you my word.”

  Crow slowly straightened until he was standing full height. I could tell by the lines etched deep into his features the effort was painful. “No, not this time.” He shook his head, puffing out his scrawny chest. “We want Ashley. We’re invoking our scare rights.”

  Boner stepped forward, placing a hand on the old man’s shoulder as the two shared a look of understanding. “Scare right number five from the Amendments to the Supernatural Intervention Rules of Order.” Boner intoned as if reading a cue
card. “Any squad with a ghosting party less than six may invoke first rights upon the claim of a new candidate, regardless of the candidate’s aura brightness or supernatural capabilities.”

  The glare Shadow shot the two men could have melted iron. “She’s too strong for you.”

  Crow lifted his chin, the lines around his eyes looking more pronounced as he waved a fist at Shadow. “I don’t care. We’re taking her.”

  My flesh crawled when I turned to Shadow. His cool gaze had turned to granite, and I could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees. “Where exactly am I going?”

  “Ashley,” Shadow said through a frozen smile. “These gentlemen are taking you to Delta house, one of our younger ghosting units. Upon inspection, if the Delta squad appears less than desirable"—he emphasized that part with a wink—"you may decline their invitation, and I will assign you to our manor, where you will have your own living quarters and a housekeeper.”

  “Housekeeper?” I gasped. “As in she’ll fold my socks and clean my toilet?”

  “Of course.” He scowled at surfer dude. “Tell me, Mr. Boner, does Delta House offer housekeeping services?”

  Boner’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You know we can’t afford one, but we offer something more.”

  “Oh, really?” Shadow laughed. “What do you offer?”

  “Well, for starters,” Crow said, “ever since Sarge whipped us into shape, we’ve had the best ghosting track record in The Agency. We might look like a ragtag bunch of mavericks, but we don’t lose souls, and we don’t botch jobs.”

  “Yes,” Shadow said with a disinterested slur, “you’ve had a run of good fortune these past thirteen years.”

  “Also,” Boner added in a mocking tone, “we’re not a bunch of stuck-up assholes.”

  A chill stole up my spine, causing me to shiver as Shadow stilled beside me. Boner held his chin up high as he matched Shadow’s scrutinizing glare with an unwavering gaze.

  I didn’t even know Boner, but I liked him already.

  Delta House was nothing like the Alpha mansion. Sure, it was nice, but it wasn't as big, and it certainly wasn't jaw-dropping elegant. Thank goodness for that. The carpet in the common room was threadbare, the hardwood floors had a few loose planks, and the sofas were faded from use, which meant if Jack pissed on anything, the other residents probably wouldn't mind.