Usually my mind just latched onto the numbers as I counted, repeating them until they meant nothing and everything became soft static. Today, though, something felt different. The static still came, a gently humming fog that permeated my thoughts, but instead of wandering into nothingness like usual, a faint image of trees flitted behind my eyes.
With everything going on, I’d forgotten about that strange experience Sunday morning. It came back in a rush now, but the urgency couldn’t break through the haze in my mind.
The smell of pine and earth and crisp, clean snow permeated the air, fresh and clean. Tiny snowflakes clung to my eyelashes, nearly invisible in the wind. I’d never felt so alive, sofree.
“Who the fuck are you?”
A deep, rumbling voice jerked me out of the forest, fear stealing the breath from my chest. That wasn’t the whisper-soft question of a scared ghost. That was confusion, suspicion, even a hint of anger. Whoever this was, he was pissed.
Spirits were always harder to see in the daylight, their forms colorless and nearly translucent in the sunlight, but I had no problem spotting the man standing by the coffee table. I wasn’t short by any means, but this man towered over me by at least four inches. Dark brown hair even more in need of a haircut than my own fell in his eyes, which were a shade of pale blue I didn’t think was possible without colored contact lenses. His scruffy beard nearly brushed his chest, which I only then realized was bare, as were his feet. He wore only a threadbare pair of jeans that clung to heavy muscles.
Basically, he looked like he’d stepped off the cover of one of the romance novels I kept in stock for Chief Cornell.
“I asked you a question,” he barked, and I flinched back against the seat. Until Thomas McAvell, I’d never been afraid of the ghosts who came to me once I’d grown up enough to understand what they were. Now the feeling of a ghost beneath my skin clung to me, a constant reminder of how easy it had been to lose control of my own body.
“My name is Alex,” I replied cautiously. “Do you need me to help you?”
The man snorted, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. “Ah. You’re one ofthose.”
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Maybe he didn’t realize he was dead yet? “I don’t know why you came to me, but we can figure it out, okay? Do you remember where you were before you came here?”
“A fucking novice? Are you kidding me?” He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t come here. You came to me. Look, are you one of Ori’s people?”
“What? I mean, I know Ori, yes, but—”
“Fucking figures,” he growled. “Look, tell Ori I don’t need their help, okay? I’m fine. You all can leave me the fuck alone.”
Then he was gone, disappearing as though he’d never been there, leaving the lingering scent of pine and snow behind him.
“What the actual hell?” I breathed.
The man’s words ran circles in my head, but no matter how I twisted and turned them, they refused to make any sort of sense. I kept circling back to his question, though. ‘One of Ori’s people’? What did that even mean?
One way to find out.
I was halfway through scrawling a note to slap on the door of the shop when I remembered my promise. This wasn’t a ghost in the traditional sense, but it was close enough that I knew my friends would be pissed if I didn’t call them.
A quick glance at the clock showed it wasn’t even noon yet. All four of my ‘ghost emergency’ contacts were at work right now. This close to lunch, Raina and Camille would be slammed with customers, which left Donovan and Will.
“Hey, Alex.” Donovan picked up on the second ring, his voice warm and relaxed when he spoke. I hated to take that away, but I couldn’t break my promise to him again. I just couldn’t.
“Hey, Donovan,” I replied, and I didn’t realize just how anxious I was until I heard my voice quivering.
“What’s up? Do I need to come to the shop?” he asked, instantly on alert. I heard faint sounds in the background, like he was shuffling paperwork, probably already on his way out the door.
“Yes, please. I think I just saw a ghost.”
“I can be there in two minutes,” he said. His voice grew muffled for a moment, like he’d put his hand over the phone, but I heard him tell Will that he was taking an early lunch to meet me. Will must have understood the double meaning, because when Donovan came back a moment later, he just said, “I’m on my way now. Do you need to close up?”
“I’m going to put a note on the door right now.”
“Good. Go ahead and turn out the lights. I can see the shop from here. Thank you for calling me.”
“I promised you,” I whispered as I stuck the note on the door and turned out the lights. If I peeked out the window at just the right angle, I could already see Donovan crossing the street and coming toward me. He wasn’t running, but it was close, and thirty seconds later he slipped through the doors and pulled me straight into his arms.
“Are you alright?” he asked, gently rubbing my back as he held me.
I took a second to assess myself, something I hadn’t done yet. A faint chill shivered along my skin, but nothing like the freezing, biting cold I’d once been used to.
