Ghostly: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy (Perks of Being Paranormal Book 1)

Chapter 5

“You want me to be the Transfer Individual.” Gabriel leaned on the doorway. “You’re not serious. This contract is as shady as it gets.”

“You think it’s not valid?”

His sanity was telling him it was a bunch of bullshit, but then, a week ago he’d have said the same for ghosts. At least he could fall back to one thing: good old rules.

“For starters, it’s badly written. It’s an offense to call it a contract. It’s missing a bunch of clauses, no talk of termination, dispute resolution, the terms are too loose and even the parties aren’t clearly defined! Who’s providing the services here? Some…” He picked up the book and shuffled to the front page to find the author’s name. “Brenda B. Bustin. Are you kidding me. I suppose she also has a pseudonym to write—” He looked up when Ida giggled.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m very emotionally unstable today.”

“Glad to know I’m amusing,” he bit off. “All I’m saying is, this is not a contract to be trusted.”

“Yes, but if it’s a fake contract, we’ve nothing to fear, correct? It can’t hurt me. Or you.” Ida glided around the room. “However, if it is real, I can’t let it go because it’s missing a clause or two. And I have no one else to help me but you.”

No one else to help.

It’s been a while since he’d heard that from any of his clients. Recently, he’d been dealing with fish too big to use such personalization, but back when he still had to prove himself, it had been glorious and empowering to hear.

In a way, Ida was just one of his clients. A client he also wanted to be rid of, and this was the way out—so why was he resisting?

“Say I were to do it,” he said begrudgingly, “how would it work? Do I sign— hell, it doesn’t even have a place to sign, which is exactly my point—”

“That’s the part the contract has covered,” Ida said with a bit of a smile. “Binding. I possess the contract, then you. Easy.”

“And by possessing me…”

“It’s nothing bad. Just like possessing an object.”

“So much about objectification,” he murmured.

“I’ll do the contract first. You’ll see nothing bad will happen.”

Before he could say anything, Ida laid her hand on the page and disappeared. A low humming noise, like a computer running in the background, emerged from the page, and then Ida was back out. “See, harmless.”

“Uh…” Gabriel pointed at the page. The name Ida Huxley appeared on the previously empty line below the title, written in elaborate cursive letters.

Ida squealed. “It worked!”

No way that just happened.“How did you do that?”

“Simple haunting.” Ida looked at him with hopeful eyes. “Now I only need my TI.”

He retreated a few steps. “We didn’t agree on anything.”

“But—”

“You’re not possessing me.” If it were a signing thing, fine—with so many legalities missing, this thing was worthless, a signature or not. But to think Ida would go inside him, however that would look or feel like…

“Well, then.” Ida set her hands against her hips. “I guess with me unable to fulfill the contract, I’ll just stay here. There’s a lot we haven’t talked about yet. Did you know, when I was little, we didn’t have toilet paper. It existed, but my mother had this thing about it and—oh, to think now, it’s even perfumed—Rhonda liked it with a scent of vanilla, although if I haunted it, and not that I haunt toilet paper regularly, that would be odd, it smelled more like—”

“Okay.” He raised his hands. “Talk me through this possession.”

“It will only take a second. You may feel cold, but it won’t be harmful.”

“Can you”—he winced—“control me while you’re in there?”

“I won’t.” She sounded calm and sincere. “Believe it or not, I’ve no desire to roleplay as a lawyer. In and out.”

Gabriel sat down and sifted through the pages surrounding the contract. No additional information that would relate to it; just ghost mumbo-jumbo. Ida was right: if the contract didn’t work, he, as the TI, would risk nothing. She’d be disappointed, but he had warned her. Her problem. If the contract was real, he was only the executor. No effect on him directly. Plus, the tasks would give him something more to do.

He let out a deep breath. “Fine. Do your thing.”

“Really?” Ida clutched her fists to her chest. “Alright, let’s do it. It will be quick and painless, I promise.”

She sat beside him and tentatively extended a hand toward his forehead. Gabriel’s heart rate picked up, anxiety rising for a split second—and then, just as Ida’s fingers should’ve touched him, she disappeared, and his heart calmed. It felt as if being dipped into ice-cold water, but the water layer was underneath his skin, spreading across his body. His mind, still clear, told him he should panic, and yet, no panicking happened. He became woozy, his vision blurred—

Ida appeared on the sofa. She let out a whistling breath. “How do you feel?”

He blinked and shook his head. “Fine.” The wooziness and the cold were all gone. Huh. Not that bad.

“Thank god.” Ida fanned her face. “I’ve never done that before.”

Gabriel jumped. “Wait, what?”

“Well, I don’t haunt people.”

“You went inside me and you didn’t know if you were doing it right?”

“It’s just basic possession. I figured it would work. And it did—look!”

Ida’s name on the contract shifted up, and below it appeared, in the same writing: Transfer Individual: Gabriel Vane.

“You tricked me,” he whispered.

“I hadn’t lied. I did it quickly and harmlessly, as I promised. I only didn’t tell you I’d never done it before.”

Gabriel squinted at the book, though his mind was not on the words on the page. That was true. In fact, she’d used a tactic he had, many times. She shaped the truth to suit her goals. He might even commend her if he wasn’t worried it would set her up for another fifteen-minute speech on the topic. And now that he was done with the mumbo-jumbo for the day, he really should get back to work.

“Gabriel?” Ida tilted her head as she waited to get his attention. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Ghostly possession, contract binding or not, physically, he didn’t feel any different. But to know he’d helped… that was rather pleasing.

***

Ida never slept, but if she haunted the music box, she could listen to its soft lullaby, and it made the time pass faster; she liked to think of it as hibernation. Unfortunately, the music box was still in her old room, which made her face it every time.

Few of Ida’s memories had faded, but those relating to her room were particularly persistent. It didn’t matter that the space had been redecorated several times since. Her wireframe bed was tossed out for Jamie’s crib and, later, another bed with a patchwork blanket that made the room seem friendly and cozy, as if her brother had tried to delete all memories of her. The closet, the dressing table, even the washstand—all had to be tossed out and replaced. She supposed it was a miracle he’d overlooked the music box. Or perhaps, it was a curse.

But today, after unnumbered days of emerging with a view of the changed, but still familiar place, Ida gazed upon it with hope. Today, Gabriel would start fulfilling the conditions, and she’d soon be set free. She glided down the hallway, humming and twirling as she went. She paused at the doorway to the living room, entered, then went back, entered again, and repeated it one more time. At the same time, Gabriel entered the living room from the kitchen.

“Good morning!” She whirled around, sat on the sofa, but quickly became too jittery, and stood again. “Are you ready to get to work?”

“I assume you mean your ghostly work, not my actual work.” Gabriel slurped his coffee. That explained why he was still cranky.

He powered up his laptop, and Ida clenched her fists behind her back. As a sign of goodwill, she’d left him a small surprise the evening before.

“What the…” Gabriel leaned into the screen, then narrowed his eyes at Ida. “What the hell did you do?”

“I only checked your report and made a few fixes. Like the misspelling of 3,4,4,5-tetramethylcyclohexa-2,5-dien-1-one .”

“I can’t bring myself to call it penguinone, it’s stupid,” Gabriel murmured. “But that’s not all. There’s a whole conclusion I’m positive I didn’t write.”

She didn’t know how he managed it, since she was standing, and he was sitting, but he still stared her down. She cleared her throat. “You had problems with the research. So I haunted all the necessary documents to gain information, as well as studied your report, in order to accurately capture your style. And I…” she wrung her hands.

“I told you I didn’t need help.” Gabriel’s voice was like grinding stones.

“And I wanted to help, so you can help me with my tasks.” She took a few quick breaths, to prevent her voice from rising. The maddening man. “Why are you so annoyed, anyway?”

“Because this is my job, and I don’t like other people taking over.”

“I’m not taking anything away from you, I’m only helping!”Well, there goescalm and collected. Ida grunted and faced away. “Sorry. If you’ll allow me to jump in there, I’ll put everything back as it was.”

She made a move toward the laptop, but Gabriel wrapped a protective arm around it. “It’s fine,” he said. “While I don’t approve of your methods, the work was…” He let out a suffering breath. “Good. Thank you.”

Ida beamed on the inside—is that how it feels to be useful?—but didn’t want to torture his ego further, so she clapped her hands. “Can we get to the tasks now?”

“I suppose we can get that out of the way. What do you want me to do first?”

Ida turned her gaze to the book on the coffee table, opened to the page of the contract. “How about some enlightenment? Hey, that’s what Voltaire said!” She did finger guns at Gabriel.

He squinted at her. “Are you alright?”

“Just excited to begin. And I’ve haunted Candide forty-two times.”

“Okay.” Was that a tiny smile from him, or had she imagined it? “So for the enlightenment part, I tell you an interesting fact?”

“I suppose. Hit me.”

Gabriel scratched his chin. “Oh! Tomatoes are vegetables. Decided by the court. So whenever some biologist goes on a ‘tomatoes are fruit’ rant, you can tell them that no, they are a vegetable. Legally.” He crossed his arms over his chest, clearly proud of himself.

Ida blinked.

“Feel enlightened yet?”

“It’s certainly an interesting fact,” she drawled. “Maybe a little short of being enlightening? Also, I can’t have debates about tomatoes with anyone but you, and you made your standing clear.”

“Okay.” He nodded and scratched his chin some more. “Pickles need to bounce in order to be legally fit for human consumption.”

“Kind of in the same category as the previous one and, what is it with you and vegetables?”

“I don’t know!” He stood up. “Then what is enlightening? Women can vote now?”

“I still know what’s going on in the world. I’m a ghost, not oblivious.” She sagged into the couch. “Maybe, because of my ghost status, I’m not a good subject. Maybe I can’t be enlightened.”

“Or it doesn’t work because you’re the GI. We need a third, contract-independent person.” He raked his hair, sat down and started his laptop. “I’ve got just the candidate.” He clicked a few times, until a ringing sound was heard, and a voice on the other end.

“Mr. Vane. Hi. How can I help you?”

“Ollie, stop sounding like a receptionist,” Gabriel said.

Ida leaned in. A young, bespectacled man with wild dark curls was on camera. “Who is he?”

“This is…” Gabriel cut himself off and shook his head. “Ollie, this is a special request. I’ll tell you a fact now.”

“You’re talking weird,” Ida whispered.

“I know. Stop talking to me,” Gabriel whispered back, then, louder to Ollie, “Ernest has a quirk. Whenever you bring him multiple folders, if they’re different colors, lighter ones need to be on top and darker ones at the bottom.”

“Oh, I like Ernest, whoever he is,” Ida said.

Gabriel ignored her and continued, “If there are multiple folders of the same color, those folders need to be together. That’s regardless of the contents. And if he has coffee on the table when you bring them in, they need to be to the left of the coffee, otherwise he’s afraid he may spill it on the paperwork.” Gabriel took a breath. “How was that?”

Ida wasn’t sure whom he was addressing, but Ollie said, after some stammering, “Helpful, sir. Really helpful.”

“Would you say you feel enlightened?”

“Well, yes, sir, I’d dare say so.”

“Wonderful! Back to work with you, then. Have a nice day.” Gabriel canceled the call and closed the laptop. “Ollie is my assistant. He’s a paralegal. And now, he should also be the person whom I enlightened.”

Ida looked at the contract. Nothing changed. “Maybe I need to haunt it again to make it stick.” She did so, and even spent a few seconds inside the page in case she needed to form a stronger bond, but when she came out, everything was still the same.

“Perhaps we need to go through all of these and only then will we see the effects,” Gabriel said.

Ida bit her nail. “I guess. I’d just liked to have seen a sign. Know we’re on the right track.”

“Come on.” Gabriel tapped his knees and stood. “Let’s try more. How about some fixing?”

***

“There’s a joke hidden in here somewhere.” Gabriel gave the light bulb one last screw, tapped it, and got off the chair. “How many lawyers does it take to change a light bulb?”

Ida didn’t respond, staring at the book instead. “Still nothing.”

Gabriel turned on the light. “But it works now. You broke it, I fixed it.”

He came to stand by her and checked the contract. “We did exactly what it says. So, if it’s worth its salt—”

“Which you were in doubts about, anyway—”

“Then it should’ve worked. It’s a paranormal contract, but that doesn’t mean it needs to be interactive.” Did he seriously say those words? “It doesn’t show when a term is fulfilled. And I’ve got to have done at least one of those right.” Even if enlightening Ollie hadn’t been enough, Gabriel had done three kinds of warming up—by doing a jog around the house, warming up by the radiator inside, and drinking hot coffee. Add to that a pretty straightforward fixing procedure, and they should be halfway done.

They had better be done, because he’d already spent 154 minutes on this. Two minutes short of the twenty-sixth increment—did the damn contract even know how much of his time he’d given it?

Of course it didn’t. It was a piece of paper. And ghostly mumbo-jumbo was making him crazy again.

“I have a feeling it’s not working.” Ida chewed her nail. “We should be halfway or even three-quarters done by now, and I don’t feel any different. Shouldn’t I be fading or something? Or feeling more and more detached?”

Gabriel grunted and headed to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. I have to go to town tomorrow because no one will do grocery delivery around here.” Or general food delivery which was, frankly, baffling. But he’d wanted privacy, and that’s what he got. “I’ll try enlightening a few people there, and see if I can get something that can be broken and fixed without you having to tamper with it. Maybe because of your involvement, the contract thinks we’re cheating.” Again, the words coming out of his mouth! If Clifford and Ernest heard him.

“Sounds good. But for the rest of the day—”

“I need to work.” He poured the last of his Jamaica Blue—he couldn’t hope any store in town would hold that—and came back to the living room. “I have a fifty-nine-paged complaint of a clinical trial subject to get through.” Not to mention he was getting slightly annoyed over the contract. He needed to do something that would produce a result. A victory. Ida did a good job with the other part of the research—fantastic, actually—and for a second, he was tempted to ask her to help again. But no, he’d do it. After all, wasn’t the point of all of this to keep him occupied?

“I understand.” Ida gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach up to her eyes. “But would you mind turning on the TV? It’s been so long since I’ve watched it and I’ve run out of books to haunt.”

“Sure.” He did so. “Good?”

“Oh, The Bachelorette! I had no idea that was still going!” Ida squealed and blinked out. The television started humming.

“Ah. You meant watch TV as in haunt it.” Gabriel tapped his knee awkwardly. He supposed he couldn’t turn it off now. He’d have to wait until Ida popped back out. For a few seconds, he stared at the screen, where a young man fought off crying. “Don’t embarrass yourself, buddy.” He shook his head and got to work.