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“You’re beautiful tonight. You’ll knock him dead. Or there is something definitely wrong with him,” he joked and gestured toward the door. “Now get out of here and enjoy some time away from my crazy self. You got to get used to it once you’ve solved the case.”
“I do, don’t I?” She chuckled, and it sounded forced even to her own ears. She took her time at the door, fingers picking at her dress and fiddling with her hair in the small mirror, stretching the time to her departure as long as she could. “You know, I’m getting too used to you being around. I might even miss you tonight.”
Another kind of smile played across Mel’s lips. Something he never gave her before. A sad kind of smirk that barely reached his eyes. It was made to hide something better left unsaid. She could see his mind trying to put words together, something he really wanted to say. He took a breath to say it but stopped himself. He shook his head and nodded at the door.
“You’re going to be late. Your date with a pulse is going to think you stood him up. Then come Monday, the conversation may be awkward.”
Disappointment flooded Anastacia, and she wondered if it was natural or silly.
“Yeah, you’re right.” She logged the address into her phone and headed out.
Assoonasshelocked the door, he walked to the window and watched as she made her way out to the street and turned left out of view. If she saw the strange entity watching her from across the street, she didn’t show it. She was good at not showing it, a master at the skill, really. The spirit watched her for a moment longer, before its veiled face turned to him, staring a bit longer than usual. Mel couldn't help but think it was trying to say something.
It was true; he wished he'd said something to her before she left. After she said she may miss him, there was a, “You don’t have to,” at the tip of his tongue. He ached for her to stay home. With him. He yearned to learn more about her dreams. She heard all about his that would never be. He needed to see hers come true.
He craved to touch her for once. His hand always passed through hers. The closest to actual touch was a resistance they both felt in the office when she reached for his hand. But the fleeting moment was not enough.
He was not enough.
The best he could do was put her on a path with a good guy. Even if he was a bit of a hard ass. Knight could hold her and hug her, touch her. He ordered dinner for her and then paid for it. He took her to experience things she never had before, things Mel could never experience with her as a spirit, earthbound or not. When she made friends, Knight could meet them. He could wipe away the tears she cried in the night when she thought no one noticed and hold her hand when she got scared. Knight could love her.
Mel pulled away from the window long enough to play with one of the small machines on Anastacia’s tiny dining table. He poked a finger at it and the EMF detector sprang to life as all the lights flashed solid.
“Well, look at that. It actually works.”
He snorted at the thing and walked back to the window. It was still early, and he was sure there would be more people watching as the revelers went to and from Bourbon Street. Settling on the window ledge, head propped on the frame, he noticed the entity had vanished, or at least was hiding in the shadows. A car pulled up to the sidewalk and Mel was surprised to see Knight get out of the back seat talking with the driver before the car took off without him.
“Whatcha’ doing here, Knight?” Mel asked from his perch. “Our damsel already left to meet you so you can sweep her off her feet.”
Knight looked toward the apartment building door but was distracted by a bit of paper flitting on the ground. He bent to pick it up. Even from the window, Mel could make out it was the paper Anastacia had written the address on. Knight smiled and pulled out his phone.
“That’s right, you dumb ass. She’s meeting you there, remember? You probably wanted to surprise her,” Mel continued the fictional conversation with the man on the street below. “But with no flowers? Tsk-tsk. Here I thought you were a detective. It's customary to bring the lady something nice.”
Knight laughed into the phone, and Mel could only assume it was Anastacia on the other line. Knight looked up and down the road before turning down the same direction she had gone.
Mel smushed his face against the glass of the window and took a deep breath. “Scurry away, you lucky bastard.”
He slowly blinked, watching the glass fog up from the cooler temperature he caused. The humidity outside filled the corner of the window he leaned against with condensation. Pulling back, he tried his hardest to draw in the fog before too many drops dripped down. His finger hit the window, but the condensation stayed undisturbed. Extracting his finger, he struggled to concentrate hard on any one emotion as he tried again. Nothing changed on the fogged glass.
This was going to be a long night.
He surveyed the small space to see if there was anything else he could draw energy from. The electrical system was an easy go-to, but maybe he could draw from some of the battery-operated items she never used. He leaned heavily against the window and shook his head, wondering if it ever got easier.
He clutched at his chest as a pang of dread ran through him. It was a warning, a shot of sheer panic and mortal fear. He hadn’t felt the emotions since he died, but he knew them just the same. These feelings weren't his own. This was someone else’s terror. It didn’t clench his stomach in knots and make him want to beg for mercy like the night he died. This constricted his whole chest, stealing the air from his non-existent lungs. Only one face came to mind.
“Stacia?” He whispered, pushing off against the window and toward the door, leaving behind a perfect handprint on the fogged glass.
Mel was outside on the street with no awareness of how he got there. The fear pulled at him in a definite direction. His feet carried him quicker than he ever ran before. Buildings passed by faster than should be possible on foot. Maybe it was his desire to get to her side, or maybe this was another skill he acquired as a spirit. Either way, he was happy for the assistance and didn’t need an explanation as long as he got to her.
Maybe this feeling was just reminiscent of his last moments, something triggered by the atmosphere. He was going to find her in a restaurant with Knight telling her another story. She'd be laughing and adding witty banter. She’d be safe. She’d be safe without him following her around.
The horrid feeling lurched again in his chest as he skidded around one of the last corners to the intersection.
The cross streets led to a building in the industrial portion of the city, away from the Quarter, and to a very dark warehouse. He was only a few streets away from where his life ended.
This wasn’t right.
This wasn’t where she was supposed to be.
