The Haunting (Immortals) (5 page)

His father’s face fell a little before he nodded. “All right.”

“I’ll go with you,” Dave offered. Nick knew it was as much for a chance to have fun as to help him, but he didn’t mind. Maybe Dave was right. What he needed was a little more fun and a little less work. After all, wouldn’t it be better to have real sex than dream sex?

It was midmorning when Mai took a break from her work. She made herself breakfast and then stood leaning against the kitchen counter as she ate, looking over the open divider into the living room. One of the things she liked best about her new apartment was that even though it was small, it felt spacious and open.

The front door opened into a short foyer from which she could either walk straight, and run into the small dining table that took up one corner of her living room, or turn left into the kitchen. The archway on the far side of the kitchen led to another short hallway off which were the bathroom and bedroom.

There were no walls separating the kitchen from the living room—only the half counter. It might have felt cramped except for the huge mirror hanging on the wall behind the dining table, which made the room seem that much larger.

Like her old place, this one had only a single bedroom, so her computer was set up on a desk in the left corner of the living room. She’d lined the rest of the left wall with bookcases, which held an assortment of reference books, popular fiction and mementoes from places she’d gone and things she’d done.

The main attraction of the room was the huge picture window on the far wall. Looking out across the city, it opened up the room and made it feel larger than it was. She put her favorite oversized chair in the corner next to it, opposite her desk, so she could sit and read books or enjoy the view.

Her TV was located against the right wall, with her couch in the center of the room facing it. She’d already managed to unpack several boxes, finding places for dozens of books and framed pictures. Unfortunately, she still had several boxes left to unpack and she hadn’t even started on the kitchen or her bedroom.

A knock at the door brought her out of her musings. When she opened it, she found Will Johnson, the building’s super, standing there. He was thirty-something and fairly attractive, but the two times she’d talked to him before, he’d looked at her as if he were disrobing her—and she was so not interested.

“Hi. I thought I saw you were back,” he said. “All moved in?”

“Hello. Yes—I believe so.”

“Good.” His gaze dropped to her breasts. “I just came by to make sure everything was working.”

“I think everything’s fine.” Mai crossed her arms over her chest, forcing his gaze back to her face. She wanted to smack the knowing smile off his face.

“I let the cable guy in yesterday to hook up your Internet,” he told her, looking past her shoulder into her apartment. “I should probably check to make sure it’s working.” He pushed past her and moved into the room before Mai could protest. “I see you already have your TV plugged in.”

He grabbed the remote off the set and turned on the TV. She considered ordering him out, but the last thing she wanted to do if she ever wanted leaky faucets or anything
else fixed around the apartment was make the super hate her. So instead, she stood there fuming.

“Nice picture,” he said a short while later. “Be good for watching the game.”

Mai had no idea what “game” he was referring to, but she did know he wouldn’t be watching it here. “I’m not really into sports.”

“That’s too bad.” He said it like she was missing out on a great opportunity.

Afraid he would try to stick around, she was surprised when he suddenly turned off the TV and replaced the remote control where he found it. “You need help setting up your wireless router?” he asked, gesturing toward her laptop.

“I can handle it.” She went to the door and opened it. “Thanks for coming by. I’m sure you’re busy, so don’t let me keep you.”

He shrugged but took the hint. “Okay, then.” He reached into the top pocket of his blue-gray coveralls and pulled out a business card. “Here’s my number.” He handed her a card with a number scrawled on it. “I’m available,…or night, depending on your needs.” He put particular emphasis on this last bit, leaving Mai to hope she never had to use the card.

She waited until he stepped out, then closed the door with a huge sense of relief. Looking out the peephole, she saw that he didn’t immediately leave. She found that a bit odd—as well as unnerving—so as quietly as she could, she turned the dead bolt and slipped the chain across the door.

After another couple of seconds, he finally started moving down the hall. She watched him until he disappeared behind the elevator doors. Only then did she leave her door to go back to unpacking boxes.

Not ten minutes later, another knock sounded on the door. The thought that Will had returned brought a twinge of anxiety.

Looking out the peephole, she was surprised to see a young woman standing there.

“Hi. My name is Sarah Renfield,” the woman said when Mai opened the door. She was maybe in her early twenties, about Mai’s height—which wasn’t much over five feet—and, also like Mai, had shoulder-length, straight dark hair. “I saw you moving in yesterday. I live down the hall, in 14-A.”

“Oh, hi.” Mai held out her hand. “Mai Groves. It’s nice to meet you.” You could tell a lot about a person by her handshake and Mai was glad Sarah’s was firm and not of the limp “dead fish” variety. “So—you live alone?”

“No, I share a place with my older sister, Jenna. She’s at work right now, but then again, she’s always at work.” She shrugged as if to say “what ever.” “What about you? You live here alone?”

“Yep, just me, I’m afraid.” She gestured toward the living room. “I’ve been slowly digging out from under all the boxes and could use a small break. Want to come inside and visit for a while?”

Sarah smiled. “Thanks. Maybe for a few minutes. I can’t stay long. I have to go back and study.” At Mai’s confused look, she hurried on. “I’m taking classes at Hunter.”

Mai stood back to let the girl come in and then watched as she idly walked around the room. “What’s your major?”

“Education. I want to teach high school.”

“Wow—tough age group.”

Sarah smiled. “Only because kids that age are easily bored. The key is to make it interesting. Nobody likes a lecture. Besides, kids these days can handle a lot more stimuli coming at them than kids could a generation or so ago—thanks to video games, computers and cell phones. It’s a whole new era of learning.” Sarah’s eyes lit up as she spoke.

“You sound like you’re really into it.”

“I am.” Her excitement shone on her face. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a freelance reporter.” Mai was getting more used to the sound of it each time she said it.

“Really? Any chance I’ve read your work?”

“Maybe,” Mai said. “I used to write a regular column for the
New York Voice before
I…decided to go freelance.” She saw no point in sharing the specifics of her situation with Sarah. Instead, she rattled off the titles of a couple of her pieces to see if Sarah recognized any of them. She didn’t.

Mai didn’t let it bother her. She had something else she wanted to talk about. “What can you tell me about Will Johnson?”

Sarah gave her a sharp look. “You’re not—interested—in him, are you?”

“Uh—no.” She said it with conviction.

Sarah smiled with relief. “That’s good because if you were, I’d try to talk you out of it.”

“Because you’re interested in him?”

Sarah laughed. “Yeah, right. The guy’s a jerk. He’s got an ego as big as the day is long—as the saying goes. Thinks he’s all that with the women. Me? I think he’s just plain creepy, but he does a good job of fixing things.” She shrugged. “I think he’s harmless.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.”

There was another knock at the door making Mai feel as if she were living at Grand Central. Excusing herself, she went to answer it. Standing at the door was a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Sarah.

“Hi. I’m going to guess that you’re Jenna,” Mai said, holding out her hand. The woman looked a little worried and eyed Mai’s outstretched hand suspiciously before reluctantly shaking hands with her.

“Is Sarah here?”

Mai stood back in tacit invitation to the woman. “Yeah. Come on in.”

Jenna moved forward cautiously, her gaze darting around the room until she spotted Sarah. “There you are. I was worried.”

“Sorry, Jen,” Sarah apologized.

“Sarah came by to welcome me to the building,” Mai explained.

“I tend to be a little overprotective sometimes,” Jenna said to Mai, offering an apologetic smile. “Sarah and I lost our parents several years ago, so all we have left is each other. But Sarah’s right—welcome to the building. As you already guessed, I’m Jenna.”

“Thanks. I’m Mai. Mai Groves.”

“The reporter?” Jenna asked, her eyes seeming to brighten. “Didn’t you write for the
New York Voice
? I read your article on the vampire clubs. I found it very interesting—and amazingly detailed. Well written.”

Flattery will get you everywhere
, Mai thought, warming to the woman in spite of herself. “Sarah and I were just chatting about her schoolwork.”

“Speaking of which”—Sarah looked at her watch—“I’d better get back to it.” She turned to Mai. “It was nice meeting you. I hope to see you around.”

Mai smiled. “Me, too.”

Jenna echoed her sister’s sentiment and Mai watched them leave. Once they were gone, Mai looked around at the boxes waiting for her. Procrastination was a skill that required practice, she thought, ignoring the boxes and going to the desk instead to turn on her laptop. The unpacking could wait.

As she waited for her laptop to boot up, she thought back to her hallucination. It had been four days now since she’d had it, but it still felt so real.

She logged on to the Internet and went to Yahoo. She
searched “hallucinations” and was taken to several medical Web sites that discussed hallucinations as a symptom of various psychological disorders, including post-traumatic stress disorder. “Yeah, already know that one,” she muttered to herself. She clicked on Wikipedia and read its definition of hallucinations. The mention of the “related phenomena of dreaming” had her wondering if what she’d experienced had been some type of waking dream. She supposed it was possible. She’d been working hard and not getting much sleep.

Curious, she did a new search on dreams—and then yet another search on nightmares. It was here that she found an article about Los Paseantes de Espíritu—who could enter the dreams of others to help them put an end to their nightmares.

The author of the article wrote about his own experience with a “spirit walker” and described how Nicolas Blackhawk, the tribe’s shaman, had helped him face and conquer his own inner demons.

Nicolas Blackhawk.

The name seemed familiar and Mai tried to remember where she’d seen it before. Then it came to her. It had been in the paper.

Hurrying into the kitchen, she grabbed the nearest box and opened it. Working carefully, but quickly, she pulled out each plate, one by one, unwrapped it and set it on the counter so she could scan the newspaper it had been wrapped in.

She was halfway through her third box when she found it. Eagerly, she read the story. Nick Blackhawk of Black-hawk Securities had saved Representative Gentry from a would-be assassin. There was no mention in the article of Nick Blackhawk being either a shaman or a spirit walker, which made her wonder if this was the same Nick Black-hawk.

She went back to her computer and did a search on Nick Blackhawk. This time she found a story from eighteen months ago about how Nick Blackhawk traced two missing teenagers to a graveyard where demons were performing a death magic ritual to honor the same ancient evil Mai had helped vanquish. To track the teens, he’d had to enter the spirit realm.

Bingo, Mai thought. Only a spirit walker could go into the spirit realm, so this must be the same Nick Blackhawk who was shaman. Maybe, if she asked him, he could help her fight the inner demons causing her to hallucinate. She looked up the Securities Web site and saw they were located right here in New York City. It was well after 9:00 AM Someone should be in the office.

A young woman answered Mai’s call, sounding very professional. “Blackhawk Securities, may I help you?”

“Yes. I’d like to speak to Mr. Blackhawk, please.”

“I’m sorry, he’s not in the office. May I take a message?”

Disappointed, Mai improvised. “My name is Mai Groves. I’m a reporter and I’m interested in doing a story on Mr. Blackhawk.”

She heard the secretary sniff. “Mr. Blackhawk doesn’t normally do interviews. However, if you’ll give me your name and number, I’ll tell him you called.”

Mai gave the woman her information. “I really need to talk to him,” she said, injecting her voice with genuine sincerity. “If I could have just a few minutes of his time, I’d really appreciate it.”

She must have sounded as desperate as she felt because the woman said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Mai thanked her and hung up the phone. Then she spent the rest of the day washing the dishes she had unpacked and going through the boxes in her living room. When she got tired of unpacking, she called the number Lenny had given her, but to no avail. She considered leaving
him a message to call her back, but that was dangerous and she wasn’t that desperate—yet.

By the end of the day, she was dog tired. Making herself something to eat for dinner, she carried it into the living room to watch TV while she ate.

Last night, she’d been too tired to think about anything other than going to bed. Now, sitting by herself in her new apartment, she found herself listening for strange noises. Hoping a wine cooler would help calm her nerves, she grabbed one from the refrigerator and carried it back into the living room to drink while watching a movie.

Two movies and four wine coolers later, she was feeling pleasantly mellow.

She’d just started to doze when a flicker of light in the mirror distracted her. Fighting the haze of alcohol, she looked around the room, but couldn’t find the source of the strange light. She looked back at the mirror—and saw it again.