He flicked another glance at the empty seat beside him. “If you’re really sitting beside me, then you’re a fortunate man to not have to deal with this shite anymore. Women are nothing but viperous snakes, driving men to do inane things. You and I never got on, but you should do yourself a favor and leave this world. There’s nothing but pain and misery to keep you company. I can’t imagine why you stuck around.”
No one answered, just the sound of wind tunneling through the window. He still couldn’t get Raven off his mind. She liked walking the roof at night, and often he’d lurk in the shadows and watch her. He wasn’t sure why, but she fascinated him with her odd behavior. She was more complicated than any woman he’d ever met, and there was an unshakable feeling that he somehow knew her.
Christian neared the front gates of a mansion but couldn’t get any closer without tipping off the guards.
“End of the line,” he said. “There are too many security checkpoints for my taste. Feck if I believe I’m sitting here talking to myself, but that’s your new home. Don’t come back with me, or else Wyatt’s never going to let me hear the end of it, and I might end up smothering him with a pillow.”
Should I open the door?Christian wondered, uncertain if ghosts could slide through walls.
Just in case, he got out of the car and opened the passenger side. “Out of the car. Time for you to saunter on,” he said, pointing toward the gates. He could see the house perfectly with his Vampire eyes, though he wasn’t sure what a ghost could see.
He folded his arms and paced in front of the car. “This is where you belong. Does it look familiar at all? Probably not. Maybe this was a mistake. Anyhow, suit yourself. Either go in or stand on the street, but you’re not coming back with me.” After a quiet moment, Christian reflected on the situation and felt a twinge of empathy. “She’s waiting for you.”
* * *
John exitedthe vehicle and studied the house in the distance. He knew he was dead; it was the reason he’d stayed at Northern Lights. It was the last place in his memory. Each night, he’d search the faces of the patrons in hopes of unraveling this tangled mystery. He couldn’t remember his death, nor could he remember most of the events before and after. His memories were like a spiderweb blowing in the wind, each section overlapping the next.
When he’d died, was there a light? Had he turned away from it? Why? Maybe this was what happened to dead people.What a fucking joke.
“She’s waiting for you,” Christian said.
Christian was a prick. John hadn’t remembered him until the moment he walked into the room and saw the Vampire’s face. It didn’t restore any of his memories outside of a few he had of Christian. He just knew him, and he wasn’t sure who or what had connected them when they were alive.
Christian sure as hell wasn’t any help. The bastard rambled on about female problems, and if John had been of flesh and blood, he would have knocked his lights out and told him to get his shit in check.
When the Vampire got inside his car to leave, John briefly debated on getting back in and returning with him to the mansion. Wyatt was the only person who’d been able to see him, and that somehow restored his sanity. The job had given him a sense of purpose. John knew that if he didn’t get back in the car, he’d never see Wyatt again—never figure out how to return to the mansion.
But Christian’s last words piqued his curiosity, so John decided to go forward instead of back. At that point, he had nothing to lose. The living could never understand the turmoil of limbo.
He walked through the iron bars and passed a few security guards reading magazines. There was a second checkpoint, but these guards had their eyes alert while they smoked their hand-rolled cigarettes. John waved his hand in front of their faces, but neither man reacted.
No one ever did.
John didn’t exist anymore. He had no place in this world, and the world had no place for him. He was a forgotten soul—ignored and forced to watch life happening all around him. He’d witnessed murders, unable to help. Watched couples fall in love, even saw a baby being born in the backseat of an SUV. It made him cry phantom tears. John was a hard man, but something about watching that baby coming into the world was fucking magical.
He glanced at his surroundings. Nothing about this place looked familiar.
Nothing.
He stepped through the front door and then shook off the uncomfortable feeling of passing through inanimate objects. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, but most of the lights were turned off. On the walls were old paintings and art that didn’t go together. If Johnhadbeen here before, it must not have been an important part of his life. Surely he’d remember what mattered.
As he made a quiet ascent up the stairs, someone made a noise down below. John leaned over the banister and saw the top of a dark-haired man heading toward the back of the house. It was hard to tell if he was security or someone who lived there. Not that it mattered.
John kept going up, his thoughts scattering like marbles rolling across the floor in every direction. His memories were fragmented dreams, and some of them didn’t make sense. He remembered the house he grew up in, yet the faces of his parents were never the same.
“Dementia,” he muttered, realizing he was trapped in this in-between place forever.
Slowly going crazy.
Maybe he should have stayed with Wyatt. It was good to have someone to talk to—someone who could explain things and become an anchor to center himself around. Wyatt wasn’t so bad; he could be a little shit at times, but he’d treated John fairly in the short time they’d known each other.
He poked his head through a door in one room and saw what looked like a study. The next door was a bathroom. Now he felt like a Peeping Tom of the afterlife, wandering around in people’s homes and spying in their bedrooms.
When he reached another door and peered in, something caught his attention. Moonlight shone through the open window straight ahead, and his eyes traveled to a bed on the left side of the room. A spray of wavy blond hair covered a pillow, and John stepped inside, feeling a chill of familiarity.
Even the smell in the room was a distant memory. While it required concentration, John found he could easily pick up odors. It was one reason he liked hanging around the bar. The smell of barbecue, hamburgers, a good cigarette—torturous and yet one of the few luxuries he could indulge in.
He drew closer to the bed, circling around to the other side where the woman was sleeping. When he neared, John stumbled backward, struck with such an incredible pain that he thought he would shatter into a million pieces.
