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“Wasn’t in my plans for the evening, but deal.”
Stepping aside as if he was still alive, Anastacia waited until he passed before letting the door fall closed, the lock snapping into place behind them. Crouching down, she pushed the salt back into a solid circle, just in case it might still keep others out.
Turning to watch him, Anastacia didn’t doubt he was scanning her sparse apartment. She hadn’t been expecting company, living or dead, so she was glad it was tidy. There was no space in an apartment this small to be otherwise.
His eyes landed on a bookcase beside a desk in the corner. It was filled with books like she had been reading when he met her in the café. She saw his attention land on the only photo in the studio apartment. A small, wooden frame surrounded an image of a much younger, and yet unmistakable, Anastacia between two adults. They were all smooshed toward the camera, mouths open in obvious laughter. She vaguely remembered that day at the beach, her favorite pier framed behind them. It was the only memory of feeling pure joy she had.
“Just so you know, I'm setting up a salt line around my bed before you get any ideas.” His attention was pulled from the photo to a queen-sized bed tucked in the far corner.
“What kind of guy do you take me for?”
“I don’t know. Despite our fun adventure together today, I only met you yesterday. I know you can’t interact with much of anything physical, but I’m not taking chances.”
“Who hurt you?” he joked. Understanding he meant it as a light-hearted jibe didn’t help take the sting from knowing how long the list really was.
With another roll of her eyes to the ceiling, for strength, she pointed to a futon with the mattress compressed to the thickness of a wafer cracker. It faced a computer monitor perched upon the desk, a combination workstation and television. “It’s comfortable enough if you need it. I don’t know how ghosts recharge themselves, and I’m not sure I want to know. Goodnight, Mel.”
She rushed to the door of the tiny kitchenette which led to what was probably the smallest bathroom in existence, turning off lights as she went, trying to hide the container of salt she gripped in her hand from him. His chuckle followed her. With how small this place was, he may not be able to move if she set too many wards and salt lines up around him. He should consider himself lucky she didn't put a circle of salt around him.
The blinds in the bathroom were snapped into place blocking out the bustle of the city below. Her instincts were screaming inside her head, clearly not thrilled about breaking the salt circle for Mel. Swallowing hard, attempting to slow her throbbing heart she peeked between two of the slats in the blinds.
Standing in the middle of the street was a tall, completely black shadow. Not a dark soul, as far as she could tell. A Gatekeeper? This one’s face was covered with a veil of shadow. A featureless form stared up at her main window, causing a cold shiver to run along her back. If it noticed her watching, it seemed unfazed. With a sharp nod of its head in her direction, the streetlamp beside it flickered out. When the light flared back on, the figure was gone.
Seveninthemorningcame around slower than expected. Mel found he didn’t need sleep, though he didn’t know if he would have been able to if he did. Most nights he stood at his self-appointed post by the window, keeping vigil as he watched for the dark being he found staring up at the apartment when he looked out the windows the first night. He didn't catch a glimpse of it last night, but he didn't want to take any chances either.
A niggling feeling took up residence in the back of Mel’s mind. At first, he was sure it was a Gatekeeper of some kind, maybe from an innate fear all spirits had of the beings who could drag them to uncertain oblivion. The more he considered it, the less he believed this to be the case. That spirit, whatever it was, had not been looking for him. If he had to put money on it, he would bet it was keeping an eye out for Anastacia. The thought unnerved him more than it should have. Maybe those things hunted living mediums like they did lost souls. His head shook at the thought, his mind reeling at the idea of having to fight something like that off.
“Is this what you're going to do every night?” Anastacia emerged from her side of the room, braiding her hair over one shoulder. She smoothed out the button-up shirt and slacks she chose from a small dresser hidden on the other side of the bed.
“Well, I don’t know how to work, or even touch your TV set up, so I thought I’d watch something other than you. No staring, remember?”
“Don’t get creepy on me.”
“You done with your meditations?” Mel peeked around her at her bed where an indent of where she had sat was still prominent. The incense she lit burned and extinguished at the blunt wood.
“As done as I’m going to be. Can still see you as bright as day, so they may not have done much.” Her lip pouted at the outcome. “Any visitors today?”
“Not a spirit in sight. The one who tried to climb through your window last night didn’t come back. I think he finally got the message. Good thing too. I would have hated to have to venture outside to peel him off the glass.”
“Did he even say anything from his side of the salt line?”
“Only that he needed more time.”
“Don’t we all?” She mused, reaching for her bag and keys. “You ready to track down your gunman?”
“You’re finally singing my song.” After spending the better part of the week trapped in her shoebox of an apartment, while she focused on getting her resume and credentials together for Knight’s captain, he would have worn a path in her carpet from pacing, if ghosts had weight. When the call from Detective Knight finally came yesterday, Mel was beyond ready to leave. At least other spirits who hung around despite her salt and wards were enough to keep him somewhat occupied. None of them was their dark friend, though. The thought of that… thing would give him chills if he still had a body. “Let’s go.”
Anastaciawasn’tsurewhatshe expected from a New Orleans precinct, but her disappointment escaped in a sigh as she found a too-small lobby similar to the stations back in the California Valley. Despite the early hour, there was still a bustle of people coming in and out. She had to hold back a small snort as Mel danced around, desperately trying to avoid the living walking through him.
A window opened and she beelined for it.
“Can I help you?” The officer at the window greeted her as she approached.
“Yes, I have an appointment with Detective Knight at seven a.m.”
The woman behind the counter had as much enthusiasm as a slug in the baking sun. Anastacia couldn’t tell if she was ending or beginning her shift, but either way, she needed coffee or sleep. Maybe both. “Name?”
“Anastacia Geist.” Anastacia was impressed that the officer didn’t ask her how to spell her name. It was usually the first thing people asked. And still butchered.
