But how’d these criminals get inside? The hurricane and house doors were locked, and I was sure the back door was secure too. And even if it wasn’t, the outside alarm would have gone off if the doors had been opened. They hadn’t. So what did they do, scale the freaking house?
The parlor window.
Fuckity fucknutter!
I opened my mouth to call for Jun because I wasn’t sure I could get up and walk around the dead guy by myself, but then I heard a creak from one of the children’s rooms on my left. My entire body tensed.
No reason to freak out. It was an old house. It creaked and groaned and settled all the time.
No reason at all—other than a second person had been in here at one point to do the killing. And they might still be around. No. Freaking. Biggie.
I stared hard at the marlinespike and swallowed the lump in my throat. I tore my gaze away after a moment and slowly raised my phone to point the light at the bedroom doorway.
Captain Smith, silhouetted by the darkness inside the room, stared back at me.
And then I screamed.
Screamed high-pitched bloody murder, because Captain Smith had been dead since 1871, and there I was, looking at the guy! He was as real as could be. The clothes, the beard—a spitting image of the family portraits. He even had the eye patch from a misfortune at sea in 1861, where he lost his left eye.
“Jun!” I screamed, then collapsed onto my back again.
The thing about cataplexy was, it looked like I was unconscious, but I wasn’t. I was aware of everything going on around me. I could hear and understand—I just couldn’t respond. I couldn’t move my body because it was like someone pulled the power plug. My cataplexy was why I took life in stride, because if I allowed myself to become overwhelmed with emotions, good or bad, it triggered my attacks. So yeah, I was fairly chill and easygoing.
Except now.
Because who in their right mind could be cool about coming face-to-face with the ghost of a long-since-dead sea captain?
I heard feet pounding—a door—more feet—
“Aubrey!” Jun’s hands were on me, hoisting me up to a sitting position, but he had to hold me in place. “Aubrey, hey, come on. Wake up.”
I’m awake, just give me a second.
His hand touched my cheek, petting gently before it began roaming the rest of me.
Oh God, did Jun think I’d been hurt? Come on, get with the program, body!
“’M fine,” I slurred. I slowly opened my eyes and blinked.
Jun’s face was in front of mine. He knelt in the hallway, one hand holding my back and the other supporting my head. “Are you awake?”
“Cata—plexy. I’m awake.”
Jun knew the difference. He’d done his homework on narcolepsy years ago when we’d first met. But I guess in the dark and not knowing the circumstances of me on the floor, he could have suspected a number of things besides cataplexy.
Jun let go of my head when it stopped lolling back. He looked over his shoulder at Most Definitely Had to Be Dead Man, and then back at me. “What happened?”
“I dunno.” I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the lethargic feelings. “There was—I tripped over him,” I said, pointing at the body. “And then, I saw a ghost.”
“What?”
“It was Captain Smith.” My eyes widened and I grabbed Jun’s hands firmly. “I saw him! In the doorway to the children’s room!”
Jun looked over his shoulder at the doorway, but it was empty. “Stay here,” he ordered, getting to his feet.
“Wait, Jun! He—he killed this guy, don’t go in there!”
Could ghosts stab someone to death with an antique marlinespike? Maybe. I didn’t think there were any afterlife rules against it, anyway.
