Secret Worlds (154 page)

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Authors: Rebecca Hamilton,Conner Kressley,Rainy Kaye,Debbie Herbert,Aimee Easterling,Kyoko M.,Caethes Faron,Susan Stec,Linsey Hall,Noree Cosper,Samantha LaFantasie,J.E. Taylor,Katie Salidas,L.G. Castillo,Lisa Swallow,Rachel McClellan,Kate Corcino,A.J. Colby,Catherine Stine,Angel Lawson,Lucy Leroux

BOOK: Secret Worlds
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He ran his fingertips across the aforementioned park bench, eyes searching the tattered wood for answers. “I got up to ask a girl next to me where I was, but she didn’t answer me. When I touched her, she looked right at me but asked her friend if he was messing with her. That’s when I figured she couldn’t see or hear me. It should have bothered me more when I realized I had died somehow, but instead I just wandered down the street checking for proof. I flipped the girl’s skirt up over there.”

He pointed towards an ice cream shop two stores away with a faint smirk on his lips. “She freaked out. Thought it was the wind. I couldn’t figure out what to do so I just starting walking in that direction.”

Michael turned and walked, making me have to jog to catch up with his long strides. “I walked for most of the night, not knowing why but I knew I had somewhere to be.”

“What happened after that?”

He stopped and I collided with his back. I rubbed the tingling sensation away from my nose, frowning up at him. A few people around me whispered and stared at my strange behavior but I ignored them. Michael hesitated, turning his face until just one side was visible.

“I saw you.”

I stared. “What? When?”

“I think you were walking towards the bus stop that day. Something about you caught my attention. I don’t know why, but I felt like I had to be near you. Still, I didn’t want to freak you out so I made sure you didn’t see me when you got on the bus, stayed in the background during the ride, got off one stop after yours. I crept into your apartment through the window and hid in the closet. After you went to bed, I had a look around to see if there was any reason I felt drawn to you. Nothing really came of it but I had nowhere else to go so I stuck around. The next morning when I poured your coffee, you seemed to notice but like most people, you sort of brushed it off. When you left for work, I trailed you for a while but then I realized just how insane my stalking had gotten and went to the park. That’s when I figured out you could see me that time you walked past. I didn’t understand what was going on but I figured you might be able to help me. I followed you back to the apartment. This time, though, there was a blond guy in your kitchen so I stayed away. I figured I’d wait it out until you got back from work the next night. That’s why I was outside your apartment when we officially met.”

Michael turned around, looking sheepish. I mouthed uselessly for a moment, trying to figure just what to tell him. “That is the creepiest goddamn thing that has ever happened to me.”

He tilted his head, making an apologetic face. “Yeah, sorry about that. I had hoped you might find it romantic or something, but that was sort of a long-shot.”

“Who am I, Bella Swan? That makes me never want to sleep ever again! Thanks, you creeper.” I resisted the strong urge to shudder at the thought of him sneaking around my apartment while I slept. Good thing I didn’t have a rocking chair or that would just be the end of my ability to relax at home.

He winced a bit. “Alright, I deserve that. What’s your conclusion?”

I sighed, flipping through what I had written down. “Unfortunately, nothing you’ve told me suggests the nature of how you died. We’re gonna have to check the obits. Come on.”

Around the corner from the club, I discovered a newsstand and bought the available newspapers. Tossing the other parts of them aside, I found the proper section and began browsing through names and photos.

Michael hovered over my shoulder, bouncing on his heels with anxiety. “Anything?”

“I found one. I’ll write it down and Google it later.” I scribbled down a man named Michael who didn’t have an accompanying picture. As I folded up the paper, he tucked his hands into his pockets once more.

“So now what?”

“We’ll circle the block a couple of times to see if anything jogs your memory. Until I check this name, there’s nothing more I can do.” I hated the immovable truth in my words. This was the worst part of my “job”—waiting.

Two days left. Any more waiting and I was dead meat. Harrowing thought, really.

The poltergeist fell in step beside me, making sure to take in every detail he could about the block. This part of town was nicer than my side with its shiny boutiques, brightly colored neon signs, and clean, well-lit parking garages. The club Michael had woken up in front of, called
Devil’s Paradise
, was pretty exclusive—they only let the trendiest of the trendy in to observe whatever band would be playing. It had previously occurred to me to ask the people inside if they had seen Michael before, but the success rate without a picture would be pretty low. Better to dig up a photo before banging on doors. It saved time.

“What are the chances that people I know have reported me missing?” Michael asked.

I thought about it. “Depends. If it’s been two days, someone should have notified the authorities. Y’know, assuming you’re a person of good moral character.”

He touched his chest, feigning a wound. “Ouch. You think I’m a drug dealer or something?”

I snorted. “More likely a male prostitute.”

He threw his head back and laughed, nearly making me jump. “That’s rich. If that’s what my life was like, I’m sad I died. I’m sure my clients will miss me.”

“Or at least part of you.” I let my eyes drift downward.

Michael shook his head, smirking. “Careful. You’ll have me blushing soon.”

We turned the corner in a comfortable silence. Not sure how that came about. Could it be that I was getting used to him? I could only hope I wasn’t that desperate for companionship.

We passed a candy shop that made my stomach growl as I caught sight of fresh pralines and caramel apples. I rarely enjoyed sweets since I was on such a limited budget.

Michael noticed my longing gaze and offered a sympathetic look. “I think I’m going to miss getting a sugar rush.”

“It’s overrated. Still, I’d kill for a fresh caramel apple,” I admitted, rubbing my stomach. The bacon and coffee had only gone so far. Real food would be a necessity within the next hour.

“Is your wallet really that tight?”

I resisted the urge to wince. “I’m on my own. The money I get is from the restaurant. Most of that goes towards rent and utilities. I make what I can out of the rest.”

“You work for God. He can’t cut you some slack in the employment department?”

That made me smirk. “You would think so. Anything familiar yet?”

“Nope. Maybe I really was a street…walker…” He stopped and then whirled around.

I stopped dead in my tracks, confused. “What is it?”

His eyes darted through the crowd wildly as if he were searching for someone. “I thought I saw something.”

“Something or someone?”

“Someone. A man. He had dark hair. When I noticed him, something felt weird,” Michael muttered, looking back and forth down the sidewalk.

I threw up my hands. “Feel free to specify at any time.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” Michael shook his head a bit, still frowning. “Forget it. Maybe I’m seeing things.”

He kept walking, careful not to bump into anyone. I couldn’t help but feel worried. I cast my own gaze into the people on either side of me. It was clear to me that this street and whomever that mystery man was had something to do with Michael’s death. Sometimes I had to take a ghost to more than one site to help their memory return but for him, this seemed to be a hot spot. Still, there was an uneasy feeling in my gut that I had never felt before when working on a case.

When I caught up with Michael, he was peering at the sign for a store called Guitar Center with a glazed expression. He didn’t speak, but he stepped up to the glass and watched a brunette with purple bangs shelve different kinds of headphones. I had to step close to hear him whisper, “Chloe.”

“Chloe?”

He blinked a couple times, snapping out of whatever vision he’d just seen. “Yeah. It’s weird. Her face just sort of clicked in my mind. I think I knew her when I was alive.”

“Couldn’t hurt to ask.” The door jingled to indicate my entrance, and I made my way through the aisle to find the girl. She was a little shorter and thicker than me with wide pink lips and too much mascara. Still, she smiled prettily when I walked over and welcomed me to the store.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. Is your name Chloe?”

“Mm-hm. What’s up?”

I fought the urge to glance at the poltergeist to my right in confirmation. “I’m Jordan. Do you know someone named Michael? Six foot one, brown hair, green eyes?”

“Yeah, sure. He’s a friend of mine. Does he need something?”

Uh oh. She didn’t know he was dead. This little interview could get real bad real fast. I licked my lips and thought of the least harmful thing to do.

“Would you mind giving me his cell phone number? I have an important call for him.”

“Sure, no problem.” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure her boss wasn’t hovering around before taking out her iPhone and showing me his number. I copied it down on the notepad. It was indeed a local cell phone number, and maybe the first bit of good news for the day.

“Ask her how she knows me,” Michael prodded. Couldn’t blame the guy.

“By the way, how do you know him?”

“Oh, he comes in here all the time to try out the new guitars. He practically lives here. His band plays on weekends over at that club down the way. Sometimes I drop by to see the performance, but he disappeared after the first big concert a couple nights back. He’s always been like that, though. You interested in him?”

Naturally, my face went hot with a blush. Michael spared me a sly little smile.

I faked a laugh. “No way. He’s dead wrong for me.”

“Oh, real nice. Gimme a second to go make a rim shot on the drum set over there,” Michael grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest.

I bit back a snicker and addressed the girl again. “Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it. I may need some more help from you pinning him down—”

Cue another immature chuckle from the Peanut Gallery. “—would you mind telling me the store hours?”

She gave them to me, no questions asked. Nice girl. I waved and left the store, heading for the nearest quiet spot. There was a clearing across the street with a few tables underneath a group of trees, so we scurried over the crosswalk to take a seat. I dialed Michael’s number, putting it on speakerphone so I could write any new information down. Instead of ringing, the phone belted out lyrics to Oasis’ “Falling Down.” At the very least, the guy had good taste in music.

“You’ve reached the voicemail of Michael O’Brien. If you leave your name and number, I’ll be sure to get back to you if I actually give a shit. Konnichiwa, bitches.”
BEEP
.

I arched an eyebrow. “So you really were a charmer while you were alive.”

Michael grinned. “Make fun of me all you want, I don’t care.”

“Why?”

“I know my last name now.” For an instant, I didn’t have anything to say in response. The statement was so simple, but he said it with such…happiness. Who would have thought that one little word could make his face glow like that? I masked my surprise by scribbling down what I had heard on the notepad and closing the phone.

“Well, we’ve got a name, a number, and a reference. Maybe today isn’t a total loss.”

He made a scornful noise. “Please, what would you be doing if you weren’t out solving my death?”

“Lying in bed with a cup of coffee and a good book,” I replied with a wistful sigh. He muttered something about being a drama queen under his breath while I stood and stuffed my phone in my pocket.

“Where to next, fearless leader?”

“Home. We’ve done a lot today and your mind needs to reset itself. Come on.” We passed back the way we came but I kept an eye out for any unusual dark-haired men. Y’know, other than the one walking right next to me. Maybe I was just being paranoid again but ever since he mentioned the man, I had felt like someone was watching us. I hoped for once it was just my imagination. If only I could be so lucky.

Chapter 4

“So you don’t have enough money to buy a caramel apple, but you can afford a laptop?”

I leaned over the side of the kitchen table, plugging the landline for the Internet into my laptop. Couldn’t afford wireless yet but I was working on it. “It’s called saving up. Considering the nature of my work, I knew I’d be needing one unless I wanted to schlep to the library every time I want to search for something.”

I plopped down in my chair and opened the Internet browser, taking me straight to Google. Michael propped his elbow on the back of my chair, leaning in to see. I typed in “Michael O’Brien Albany NY 518 555-8762” and hit Enter. The page exploded full of entries. I read through the headlines that included pictures and none of them were the dead man standing to my left. However, one of them caught my eye because it had to do with the club Chloe had mentioned, Devil’s Paradise.

Underground Band ‘Throwaway Angels’ Smash Hit in Devil’s Paradise

“Gee, is there enough symbolism here for you?” I muttered. Michael snorted with laughter. I opened the article and began to scan through it, particularly the first couple paragraphs.

August 5th, 2010—Local talent Throwaway Angels hits it big at club Devil’s Paradise in Albany, NY. Tonight was the first performance to sell out tickets more than a week in advance for such a small establishment and the response through email, phone calls, and Tweets suggests that fans are begging for more.

The band, consisting of five members, is of the garage rock variety: showcasing strong vocals by the femme fatale Casey Beck and the hunky Michael O’Brien, dual guitarists Kate Levitz and Stanley Cooper, and drummer Martin Cunningham. Michael O’Brien founded the group over a year ago and had been strategically planning performances ever since until they were able to secure a gig. He has not released a statement as to whether or not they will do a follow up to their explosive concert.

“Well, this explains my Guitar Center visits,” Michael said.

The rest of the article went on to describe which songs they played, which wasn’t terribly useful, so I copied and pasted the article in a Word document for safekeeping. “If we’re lucky, we can figure out an address from this information. If you really did that well at the club, someone will try to find you in order to get a statement or invite you guys back.”

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