He sets the books down, waiting for me to go on. I open the pizza box, take one slice, and motion for him to have the rest. He reaches down at the same moment, and his hand brushes against mine. My physical interactions with Jacques have been limited, but I’ve fucked him in my dreams many times.
And I’m pretty sure he’s fucked me in his, even though he says he doesn’t dream.
A chill runs through me, all the way down my spine, which bursts with heat at the thought of his touch. Forcing away my attraction to him, I gulp in fresh night air and look down at the piece of pizza in my hand.
“The room was covered in blood, as if someone took buckets and literally threw them at the walls. It was too much to be from one person, I know that for sure.” I take a bite of pizza, chewing slowly as I consider my words.
“What do you know about ghosts?” I ask, deciding to cut right to the chase.
“Not a whole lot. Why?”
I set the pizza down in the box, wiping my hands on a napkin. “I think I saw one tonight.”
3
“You think you saw a ghost?” Jacques echoes.
“Yes. Let me backtrack a minute. The woman who owns the house discovered the blood in the basement. She called it in, and asked for me. She said I’m the only one who can help her, and when I talked to her, she said something about ‘the Dark Ones.’”
Jacques’s chocolate eyes fill with concern. He moves closer to me, as if he’s afraid a Dark One will appear from thin air and grab me.
“And then you saw a ghost?”
“Pretty much,” I say, leaving out the part about hearing voices. “I saw a flash of light in the alley where I found the body, and the ghost of the dead guy was standing right there.”
“Hasan said the body was stolen from a morgue.”
“Right.”
“He died of natural causes.”
“Also right.”
Jacques sits next to me, hanging his feet off the edge of the stone porch. My heart lurches, and I have to fight everything inside of me not to lean in and rest my head on his shoulder.
“In movies, the air around ghosts gets cold. Cold enough to see your breath.”
He nods. “That’s one thing the movies have gotten correct. Ghosts pull energy from the air.”
“The air around this guy was warm, much warmer than the air around me.” I look into Jacques’s eyes for half a second.
“Ghosts can’t make the air around themselves warm.”
“He looked like a ghost.”
“I was under the impression this is the first ghost you’ve seen,” Jacques deadpans.
“Technically, yes.”
“Then how can he look like something you’ve never seen.”
He’s being logical, but he’s still annoying me for some reason. “He was transparent and looked exactly like the body on the ground. What else could he be?”
A line forms between Jacques’s eyes. “I don’t know.”
I sigh and stand up, going to the edge of the porch. Placing my hands on the weathered stone railing, I look out at the dark yard. This century-old estate needs a lot of work, both inside and out, and I haven’t had a chance to do it. And honestly, I don’t have much desire to do it.
Jacques’s hand lands on my shoulder, and the warmth from his skin seeps through the thin material of my T-shirt. I close my eyes, letting out a slow breath.
