Page 7 of Ghostly
Were those steps on the porch?
Gabriel froze, afraid to even swallow. Something shuffled outside. All muscles contracting, he leaned ever-so-slightly back, enough to see through to the front door—and a shadow behind it.
No, no, no. Don’t tell me they found me.
“Vane?” Clifford’s voice came from the laptop, making Gabriel jump.
“I—uh, yes,” he said, forcing his attention back to the matter at hand. “Thanks for the opportunity. I’ll await Jacobsky’s instructions.”
With the call ended, Gabriel looked back to the front door, but the shadow was gone. He breathed out. There was no reporter, and he was only paranoid. He’d get work, and he’d feel better immediately. Jacobsky’s taste for cases ran toward complicated, rather than drama-filled, and the research documents would be mind-numbing, but as he stared at the shelves across from him, Gabriel thought mind-numbing didn’t sound so bad, as long as it was work.
He also told himself the book on the third shelf from the bottom hadn’t moved since yesterday, and he was misremembering its position.
***
She guessed that was anoto gardening, then.
***
Gabriel had trouble falling asleep that night. It was likely due to lack of work; that one walk hadn’t been particularly exhausting, and hehadn’t started the research yet. His thoughts were running rampant again. Wynona, the trial, the photos, Anderson’s smug face, the court notice—suspended, suspended, suspended—knock, knock, knock—
Gabriel shot up into a sitting position. He hadn’t imagined it. He wasn’t going crazy. Something was making that noise for real—maybe the heating system, or a drain that got detached from the facade—but whatever it was, he was going to find it now so he could finally sleep in peace.
He took a few steps toward the bedroom door, reconsidered, and returned for the lamp on the bedside table. Not for illumination—the lights in the hallway were working fine—but he felt better holding something in his hand. Lamp facing forward, he edged toward the door and slowly creaked it open.
A shadow moved by the staircase. Gabriel’s heart jumped into his throat. Two days, and a criminal had already found him. But his brain, used to working in a pinch, quickly replaced panic with logic. Small town—not likely major crimes happened here. A burglar at best, but more likely some adventurous kid who thought he could scare the new resident.
Gabriel sneaked his hand along the wall until he felt the light switch. He turned it on and pointed the lamp at where he’d seen the darkness move. “Freeze!”
It wasn’t a kid. A young woman, mid-twenties perhaps, stood at the top of the staircase. Up to there, Gabriel could still explain it. But he couldn’t explain why she yelped in surprise as he turned on the lights—as if he’d scared her, not the other way around—or why she was dressed in a high-necked, long-sleeved velvet gown straight out of a costume drama. Her curly auburn hair was piled on top in a hairstyle Gabriel hadn’t seen outside of blurred Victorian photographs, and her deep brown eyes were wide on her pale, oval-shaped face.
No matter how many trials he’d faced and was perfectly prepared for, in this moment, Gabriel’s brain called it quits and decided logic was for someone else. “Uh, freeze?”
Despite his best defense being only a lamp, the woman should’ve reacted more burglar-like. But her eyes grew even wider, and she covered her mouth as she gasped. “No way,” she said in a non-burglar-like, actually rather pleasant voice. “You can see me?”
Chapter 3
It wasn’t how Ida had imagined an introduction.
That being said, she hadn’t specifically imagined an introduction, given people could never see her. Excepthecould, and she’d botched it by sneaking through the house in the middle of the night.
“Don’t move,” the man said, still pointing the lamp at her.
“I… uh…” What could she say to that? None of the books she’d ever haunted covered the etiquette of introducing yourself to a man who’d caught you sneaking through your own house. And that had distracted her from the actual important fact.
“You can see me!”
Okay, maybe less intense enthusiasm.First impressions and all. But it was so hard to hold back; she still couldn’t quite believe she was actually talking to a living person, and a part of her was afraid the moment would end, and she’d be back to being invisible. Unseen. Unheard.
“Yeah, I can see you.” He frowned at her, but still hadn’t lowered the lamp. “And I’m calling the cops.”
Wait, what? “No, you don’t understand. That’s not going to—”
“Now you just…” He approached and reached a hand toward her.
“I wouldn’t recommend—”
His hand passed through her upper arm. He raised it in front of his face, wiggled his fingers, then tried again. Straight through. “What the fuck?”
