Chris Green - Only the Good Die Young

The boyfriend she’d been arguing with the other night said, “Jesus, then just come over. You don’t need an invitation.”

“Be there soon,” she said, either totally missing his impatience with her or ignoring it.

He hung up, and she didn’t go anywhere… until she looked around, like she felt me nearby.

“Rum Tum Tugger?” she asked.

Huh? Oh yeah. The cat.

“Tug… ger…” I could tell she was hoping it was her pet she felt in the room.

When the animal didn’t show itself, Farah scuttled away, and I got another rush of energy from her unadorned fear, then went after her.

As a fancy glass grandfather clock downstairs struck nine o’clock, I flew behind Farah as she ascended the grand staircase. She kept looking around for whatever was probably sending bumps over her flesh.

And I kept buzzing with the rush.

In her room, she grabbed her purse and keys as I prepared to corner her for an empathy session.

But then a visitor showed up at her door. Guess who.

Every time I saw Gavin—the rich guy with the face of a fighter, a face that didn’t belong in this mansion—I paused, struck by his life force.

“You were supposed to stop by my room,” he said. “That was a half hour ago.”

“I got sidetracked.” She tucked her prim little purse under her arm. “And I’m busy now.”

He nodded slowly, and I got the feeling he wasn’t happy with her.

“When will you not be busy, Farah?”

She hadn’t looked at him since he’d come in. “I can’t say. Tomorrow morning. Afternoon.”

He made a dismissive motion and started to leave her room.

She went after him. “Don’t act like that, Gav.”

“Like what? Like you have no interest whatsoever in helping me with Noah and Wendy?”

“You’re mad at me?”

“I’m just…” He laughed a little, then gritted his jaw. “I’m done with even asking you. Go to James or whatever his name is.”

She lifted her chin, and as Gavin walked away, it trembled.

“Don’t you care that you’ve never met him?” she asked.

“What you do outside this house is your business, Farah. Have fun with him.”

The air just hung there, heavier than I was.

“You bet I’ll have fun,” she finally said. “A lot of it.”

When he didn’t even offer a backward glance, she hurried toward the staircase, like she was desperate to leave the House of Usher.

As for me, I forgot all about Farah and went after Gavin, my main target. I tracked him to his room and whooshed by his boots just before he closed his door.

He went to sit at that big marble desk by the ocean-view window, where a laptop computer waited. His blue eyes were even paler in the glow of the screen, his features rough as he gazed at wherever he was seeing.

I flowed behind him, already knowing what would be capturing his attention.

Me.

And I’d bet the shirt on my back that he’d only been wanting to show Farah Wendy’s camera work, then discuss either the fact that (A) their house was haunted or (B) Wendy had some issues.

He was inspecting the computerized photos with such intensity that I suspected he was taking proof of a ghost seriously. And why wouldn’t he after I’d already been at him with the knocks on the wall and my shady voice?

He clicked on to another picture and a zap of worry flicked through me, causing the computer screen to blink. I’m not sure it was even something the human eye could catch, because Gavin didn’t seem to notice. But there I was in one of the pictures Wendy had taken, a cloudy shape hovering near her ceiling. A faint outline of a faceless woman who looked as if she was suspended in a pool, floating facedown, her hair spread out.

Almost… angelic. Me .

I couldn’t help myself—I curved around, to the front of the computer as it fritzed, wanting to see what his expression looked like now.

Was it right to say that he was… taken with the image in the photo? Enthralled?

It was like a bunch of shimmers rained through me, but I told myself not to get excited. I wouldn’t be asking him to be my sweetheart anytime soon just because I’d seen him looking at me with the kind of glance that said he was a little fascinated.

A little… No, not smitten. Fascinated was a much better description.

Those shimmers stayed with me as I moved in back of him again, while he checked his computer connections because of the fritzing, then switched to another picture. This one was more of the same, except it was taken when I’d clearly decided that having a camera aimed at me wasn’t a good thing and I was heading for the exit.

The last one showed my essence halfway under the door. Subtle. Yup, that’s what I was.

“If you’re going to haunt, commit to it . ”

I didn’t like Twyla much, but she was right.

I flattened my essence like a hand, then leaned down, hovering only a micrometer away from Gavin’s skin, letting him know I was here.

The fine hairs at his hairline prickled.

He stood, and I eased away from him, stretching myself so that I was as tall as he was, mocking his shape. I was in his face, staring right into those eyes.

I dare you to say something, I thought.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” he asked between his teeth.

Yeah, he was a brave one, wasn’t he? I could feel only a trace of adrenaline from him, but not exactly fear. Mostly, I could vibe that he was on an edge, like he was clinging to it before losing his grip.

Was he remembering the dream he’d had yesterday at the office? Or did he at least know, subconsciously, what had happened in it, and he was carrying around a deep, dark feeling of dread because of my visitation?

Inspiration filled me as I saw the cell phone he’d set on the far side of his desk. I smiled, even though he couldn’t see my face. Then I extended myself toward the phone, sending my energy to it, making it ring.

Easy peasy.

Instead of a regular ring, the song from Peter Gunn played. Dun-dun-dah-dun-dah-dun-dah-dun…

Just as I thought Gavin might reach out to feel the air in front of him, confronting his invisible tormentor, he backed off, getting the phone without even checking the ID screen.

Concentrating, I thought of Elizabeth’s laugh—what it had sounded like, clear and musical.

It echoed over the static on the phone.

He pulled the device away from his ear, terror etching itself into his expression. Now there was some fear in him, and I ate it up. Wanting more, I made the phantom voice speak.

“Gavin… ?” Elizabeth sounded warped, utterly inhuman, like she was talking from under the dirt of a grave. “Why, Gavin?”

He turned off the call.

Yeah. Good try, babe.

I made the phone ring again. Dun-dun-dah-dun-dah-dun-dah-dun…

He merely stared at it as the music wore on. But I just knew he wouldn’t let it go.

He turned it on, and before I could start in, he said, “Who the fuck is this?”

His tone was jagged, and I liked that, too. I shivered with his rising anger and fear.

“Tell them the truth,” I had Elizabeth say in her cemetery voice. “Please.”

“Whoever this is, the joke stops now. Fuck off.”

I made Elizabeth weep, long, drawn-out sobs that caused Gavin to close his eyes and cover his face before he clicked off the call again.

This time he shut off the phone altogether.

Undeterred, I made it ring once more.

He stared at it like it was an intruder, shadowing his every move. Then he walked away from the desk, toward the sliding glass door, running his hand through his short hair.

Dun-dun-dah-dun-dah-dun-dah-dun…

He darted over to the phone, picked it up, went to the sliding glass window, opened it, then hurled the phone to the balcony floor.