Page 9 of Ghostly
Luckily, Jacobsky had sent him a digital stack of files to look through. Gabriel made himself some coffee and settled into the sofa—for all it lacked in looks, surprisingly, it made up in comfort—with the laptop in his lap, and worked away. Now that he had something to do, the peace and quiet weren’t bad. Perhaps he could survive another 175 days here. He hadn’t realized until now how accustomed he’d grown to the white noises of the city—sounds of cars, ambulances, the screeching of trains, muffled conversations in the far background.It had been comforting, but there was something to say for a pristine, natural silence, too.
“Hey there.”
Gabriel jumped, nearly knocking the laptop to the floor. He grabbed the screen, using the grip to stabilize the laptop as much as his pounding heart. The ghost, the woman, the hologram, stood at the bookshelf, the orange-brown of her dress nearly blending in with the wood.
She shyly raised a hand. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”
Oh, hell, no.
Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, counted to six, and looked again. She was still there, hands now clasped in front, a slight smile on her lips.
“Ignore it,” he mumbled to himself. “You’re going crazy from lack of work. Get working, and she’ll disappear.” Work fixed everything.
“I’m sorry for last night.” The thing moved on the edge of his vision, doing something between a walk and a glide. Her feet moved, as if walking, but the movement was unnaturally smooth. “Did you sleep well? I’m not too good at moving people.”
Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it.Gabriel took deep breaths and stared at the screen. Its blue light should be comforting, but he couldn’t focus on anything written there.Washe going insane?Please, no.He had so much yet to accomplish. He couldn’t go out letting Anderson have the last victory.
The thing stopped at the foot of the couch.
“It’s not real.” Gabriel rubbed his eyes.Please, make it disappear.But when he opened them, the strange-looking woman hadn’t moved.
Okay. Reason. Logic. No craziness.
Maybe he’d eaten something strange or sniffed something wrong. The backyard! Maybe he inhaled some fungi when he’d gone on that walk. He opened up a search and started typing, feeling better already.
“Oh, no, don’t do that.” She glided to the back of the couch and looked over his shoulder. “You should never search for disease symptoms online. They’ll make you think you have cancer.” Whatever was causing this hallucination, did it have to make it so… chatty? “Besides, you’re not hallucinating. I’m real. Well, as real as a ghost can be. If you count materialness, then I suppose I’m notthatreal—”
“Shut up.” He closed the lid of the laptop. “Just. Shut. Up.”
And incredibly, she did.
But she didn’t disappear.
Long seconds passed as Gabriel stared dead ahead, like a prey afraid to move lest the predator see it. What was he supposed to do? This backwater town probably didn’t even have a decent doctor. Wait until whatever he’d ingested passed, and hope it wouldn’t get worse?
“Fine.” She glided back to the bookshelf. “Would a hallucination do this?” She swiped her hand, and a book fell off the shelf.
And then she was gone.
Gabriel took a deep breath, gulping on air as if he’d spent the last few minutes underwater. Maybe it would be better to go back to bed, sleep this through. He’s had a rough week and could use a good rest.
He stood, but stopped as his eyes landed on the book. He walked to it and slowly lifted it off the floor.
It had to be a draft, right?
“I’m a ghost. Really.”
Gabriel yelped and nearly dropped the book as he turned around. She was back by the couch.
“Me throwing the book off is real. Our meeting last night was real.”
Gabriel swallowed. “Then how come I woke up in my bed?”
“I took you to bed.” She paused. “Not in that way. Just to rest! I couldn’t leave you in the hallway. But I went back to the music box right after,” she added quickly. “I didn’t watch you sleep or anything strange.”
“Great,” he said, his voice weak. So, those were his two options—either he was sick and/or going insane, or he had a ghost in the house. But hey, at least she let him sleep!
He approached slowly as she sat on the sofa. The voluminous layers of her skirt looked like they were pressed down, but if she was immaterial—
