“You look tired.” He leads me back through the study area to the front of the library. “You haven’t been yourself for weeks. You’re looking over your shoulder all the time, you’ve missed the last three review sessions with Ruby, and now you’re shouting in the library?”
My shoulders slump. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Then go home. Better yet, take the week off. I’ll handle today’s review session. Friday’s too.” The judgement in his tone is too much. Tears prick at my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
“Anton, I need to work. I’m sorry I yelled. The…wasp…scared me. I can handle Ruby’s session. She’s so close to finishing her dissertation. I want to see this through.”
I hate the desperation in my voice. But I can’t go home. My whisper will be there. She’salwaysthere. I don’t sleep because she wakes me at least half a dozen times a night.
“No. As your department head, I can’t let you continue to shirk your duties. Either take the week off, or I’ll be forced to suspend you for the rest of the quarter.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and won’t look me in the eye.
Shit. Anton is a good guy. Not exactly a friend, but not an asshole either. And I put him in this position. Missing Ruby’s review sessions…that was inexcusable. I have more than a hundred papers to grade, and I’ve been relying on last year’ssyllabi to make it through my lectures. How much longer before my students start to complain?
Guilt heats my cheeks but leaves the rest of me cold. “I’ll take the week off,” I say softly. “Please tell Ruby I’m sorry.”
With nothing todo but go home—the last place I want to be—I turn off all the lights in my office, lock the door, and log on to my computer. I might be “on vacation,” but my credentials still work. Every day, I’ve spent hours searching for someshredof information. Every search term has gone into a little notebook, color-coded, with Post-it flags to cross-reference anything interesting. But weeks of research hasn’t yielded anything useful.
Seeing my own ghost
Ghostly doppelgänger
Whisper ghost
I glance around, even though IknowI’m alone. I’m about to break so many rules, I could be fired if anyone finds out what I’m doing. But the internet can’t help me, so I open a Tor browser. The dark web is where secrets have secrets, and the unexplained is only the beginning. Maybe there, I’ll find something.
Or I’ll ruin my entire career.
At this point, do I care? No. I need answers—and a way to make my whisper vanish. For good.
Navigating this hidden—and forbidden—knowledge is like wandering through a labyrinth in the dark. Conspiracy theories abound. Everything from faking the moon landing—really? People are still going on about that one?—to blaming climate change on a vampire opening a rift to Hell.
Nothing about whispers. Or at leastmywhisper. Every search is a dead end. Until I stumble upon someone talking about the world ofThe Other.
ONegLovr: Dude. There are medical clinics that only treat the paranormal! I haven’t had a proper dental exam in fifty years. If my maker hadn’t been staked through the heart a week after turning me, I’d find a way to end him for not telling me about this!
His maker? Holy shit. This guy thinks he’s an actual vampire. With a maker.
He must be a fan of Anne Rice. Or romance novels.
A dozen others pile on. By their screen names, they think they’re witches, vampires, shifters, and even ghosts. I keep digging, even deeper, until I find an honest-to-God list of Other clinics. Including three within the San Francisco city limits.
This can’t be real. Can it? If I weren’t seeing a ghost every time I turned around—and one who looks just like me—I wouldn’t put stock in anything I’ve just read. But with no other options, maybe I should suspend my disbelief?
By the time I log off, it’s well after six, and my stomach feels hollow. But one of the clinics is on my way home. Dinner can wait. I need to see a doctor. Right now.
The pretty receptionistat DVS Urgent Care narrows her eyes at me. “Can I help you?”
“Uh…yes. I need to see a doctor.” My voice cracks, and I sweep my gaze around the waiting room. Everyone herelooksnormal enough. A mother with two little boys who chase each other around the room, an older man with a cane next to hisseat, and a security guard in a boring, tan uniform leaning against the far wall.
The woman pulls out a small, black box, flips a switch, and frowns. “There’s another clinic across the street that might be a better fit for you. We…have a very long wait right now.”
I turn, staring out the glass doors. The place across the street is affiliated with the local hospital. And they weren’t on the list I pulled off the dark web.
“No, I need to see someone here,” I insist. “Please.” Leaning closer, I lower my voice. “I’m not…I’m…something else. I’m Other.”
“You’re not, dear.” She shakes her head. “Not according to my scans.”
“Well, your scanner must be broken.” I snatch the device from her hand. “Oh, my God.”
