Chapter 3
N athan left school immediately after his last class and headed to work, grateful the spirit from the day before hadn’t appeared again. Maybe the man had taken him seriously. Once at the store, he straightened some CDs before manning the counter.
“I’m not going away,” a voice huffed behind him.
Of course, he’d jinxed himself by thinking of the ghost earlier.
Nathan turned away from the counter and scowled. “Leave me alone,” he whispered furiously, eyes darting toward the two customers browsing the vinyl albums. Thankfully, Quinn had stepped out for his break.
“Nope. Not until you talk to someone for me.” The man, Alan, crossed his arms and grinned at Nathan.
“Excuse me, sir? Do you know if you have The Wall on vinyl?” one customer called out.
Ignoring Alan, Nathan scurried over to the customer and promptly dug out the requested album, handing it over. Damn it. He’d associated the spirit with his name instead of just a stranger who was a ghost. Alan had remained near the counter, watching him with a smirk as he returned to the register. “Why can’t you just go away?” Nathan growled under his breath.
“Because I really need your help. There’s something important I need to tell my fiancé.” Alan frowned and rubbed his forehead. “The odd thing is, I can’t remember what. It took me a while to figure out I’m dead. I can’t even remember how I died.”
Nathan swore quietly. “How can I tell your fiancé something if you don’t remember it?”
“I was hoping you could help me,” Alan replied sheepishly, giving Nathan a pleading look.
Nathan barked out a laugh, which promptly captured the attention of the customers nearby. He bent his head over the mailing list ledger near the register. “No. Now go away.”
“Look, kid—”
“Kid?” Nathan replied indignantly, forgetting no one else could see Alan. “You can’t be more than a year older than me, if that.”
Alan rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Sir. Is that better?”
Nathan wanted to hit Alan but knew it would do no good, since his hand would just go right through him. He opened his mouth to retort and saw Quinn standing in the doorway to the storeroom, staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. Snapping his jaw shut, Nathan snarled under his breath and stalked away from Alan. He brushed past Quinn and stomped through the stock room to the back door, slamming it open and then closed behind him. Breathing deeply, he tried to calm himself, pacing along the alley and muttering under his breath. “God damn it. Why can’t they leave me alone?”
Frustrated, he ran his hand through his hair and glanced up to see Alan in front of him, but he couldn’t stop his forward motion. A shiver trickled down his spine at the sheer coldness of walking through the incorporeal form. “Go away!” Nathan demanded, spinning to glare at him.
Alan gave him a sad look. “I can’t. I wouldn’t ask you to do this, but in the time I’ve been dead, you’re the first person who’s been able to see me.”
Nathan slumped down onto an empty wooden crate and dropped his head into his hands. “I can’t do this again. You don’t understand what you’re asking of me.”
Alan floated closer to him. Nathan could just see the ghost out of his peripheral vision. Melancholy swamped him and he couldn’t tell if it was his own or if it was Alan’s emotions flooding through him. Finally, Nathan dropped his hands and looked at the spirit from under the fringes of his hair. “What’s your full name?” he asked in defeat.
Satisfaction rushed through Nathan, and he knew Alan felt happy. “My name is Alan Grant.”
“How did you end up at the college?”
“I used to go to school there. Majored in business economics. Mom always said I had a head for business.” Alan smiled and drifted away from Nathan, crossing his arms and staring down the alley behind the store. “I had Johns as a professor two years in a row. He can be a real son of a bitch. My fiancé always said Johns probably had a very unhappy life and took it out on others around him.”
“Do you remember when you died?”
Alan shrugged. “I have a vague idea. I saw the date on someone’s planner. The last thing I remember is preparing for finals, so it’s been around a year, maybe two. I can’t quite keep everything clear in my head.”
Nathan had heard it before. The dead never realized how much time had passed or remembered everything clearly about their death. They also got overly sentimental too. “What’s your fiancé’s name?”
An affectionate smile softened Alan’s features. “Erik. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was the day I met him.”
Nathan started in surprise. “Your fiancé is a guy?”
Alan frowned at him. “You got a problem with that?”
Nathan snorted and shook his head. “No. Just didn’t expect it.”
The name Erik reminded him of the sexy man from the day before who’d ordered the CD. Nathan ignored the spiral of attraction. Even if Erik returned his interest, there wasn’t a chance in hell Nathan could entertain the idea of being involved with the guy. Erik would run screaming the other way if he found out about Nathan’s ability to see and talk to ghosts, believing him to be batty, most likely. Wasn’t he crazy, though? Who else could see, hear, and feel the dead?
“What else can you tell me about Erik?” Nathan asked wearily.
Alan floated closer to his side and Nathan raised his hand, palm out. “If I’m going to do this, you need to stay farther away from me.”
“Oh,” Alan said, drifting back a few feet.
Nathan gave a sigh of relief and looked at Alan to encourage him to continue.
“He lives on Harwood Street in a big yellow house. He’s an architect and built the house for us.” Alan gave a soft smile. “We had so many plans. Wanted to spend our lives together. We even talked about adopting a baby.”
Sadness crashed over Nathan, and he had to struggle to remain upright. “Stop it,” he snapped at the man.
Alan frowned at him. “What?”
“Stop thinking about him or your plans,” Nathan said harshly, his chest tight with the pressure of Alan’s emotions. “You’re dead. That isn’t going to change.”
Shock widened Alan’s eyes. “No need to be a jerk!”
Nathan growled. “If you want me to help you, it’s on my terms, buddy.”
“I don’t know why you have to be such an asshat about it,” Alan muttered. “What’s so bad about my remembering how he made me feel or what our plans were?”
Nathan didn’t want to tell Alan the truth about his abilities. It made him weak and could give a ghost control over him if they were strong enough. The depth of Alan’s affection for Erik still tied him to the physical plane, giving him more power over what he could and couldn’t do. “Just stop it.”
“Fine,” Alan grunted. “Jackass.”
“Do you know how you died?” Nathan continued abruptly, ignoring the slur.
Alan ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “No. I’ve been trying forever to remember how. I can’t seem to get a hold of it. It’s almost as if it’s just out of my reach.”
That wasn’t the first time Nathan had heard the explanation. When spirits tried to recall the exact moment of their death, they usually hit a blank wall. Nathan figured it to be their psyche protecting them from reliving the horror of dying. “Do you think you were involved in an accident?”
“I don’t know,” Alan said, shrugging.
Nathan sighed. “I can do some research and see if I can find an obituary.”
“Now?” Alan replied eagerly.
Shaking his head, Nathan said, “I have to work. I need this job.”
Alan huffed with impatience but relented. “Fine.”
Nathan stood and then looked at him again. “Don’t hang around the store, okay? You’ll just distract me.”
“Anything else, Master?” Alan muttered with a roll of his eyes.
“Yeah, if you want me to help you, then lose the attitude.”
Alan raised an eyebrow at him. “I think you’re the one who had someone piss in his Cheerios this morning.”
Nathan scowled, his hand on the doorknob. “I didn’t ask for this. It’s not exactly like I want to drop everything and help you, you know.”
Alan conceded his point. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Pulling open the door, Nathan glanced back to find Alan gone. He already knew he would regret agreeing to help the guy. After all, every time he’d done it in the past, he’d ended up being the one to pay for it. He thrust those thoughts away and returned to work. Quinn kept giving him strange looks the rest of the night, and Nathan hoped he could repair the damage. He didn’t need the guy he worked with questioning his sanity.
At the end of the night, Quinn helped him close and sat on the counter talking about the upcoming party while Nathan counted the register. Nathan tuned out the inane chatter and concentrated on keeping his mind focused on the task at hand. He’d spent the rest of the evening in a sour mood, biting his tongue more than once when a customer asked a stupid question or when they came in expecting to return their opened CDs for their cash. Once opened, they couldn’t take the CDs back per store policy. Too many people would buy them, copy them, and then bring them back to get the album for free. Nathan had faced down more than one disgruntled customer in his time as manager. The busy night and constant flow of people in the store had helped keep his mind off Alan, mostly.
“Earth to Nate!” he heard.
Nathan blinked and glanced up to see Quinn shaking his head. “Huh?”
“Where’d you check out to, dude?”
“Oh. Sorry. Just tired. Long day.”
Quinn jumped off the counter and leaned against the side, propping himself on his forearms. “I asked you what happened earlier today. You were kind of talking to yourself.”
Nathan tensed as he slid the night’s profits into the bank bag and yanked the drawer out of the register to put in the safe. He had to think of something to tell him. “I was kind of still pissed off at Professor Johns.”
Quinn gave him a skeptical look but didn’t challenge his excuse. “So, you’re still coming Friday night, right?”
He shrugged. “Sure. I guess.”
“Come, Nate. Have a little fun and let go. You’re too serious for someone who is only twenty-two.”
It wasn’t the first time Nathan had been told the same thing. Even his aunts tried to push him to go out, live life, but until he graduated college and started paying his aunts back for everything they’d done for him, he wasn’t really interested in partying. “Just got a lot of shit to deal with,” Nathan replied flatly.
Quinn sighed and shoved away from the counter, glancing at the clock. “You good to make the night drop on your own, dude?”
“Of course,” Nathan said. He’d made the night drop many times by himself. “Take off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is my day off. Thomas is covering my shift.”
“Right. Forgot. Then see you Friday.”
Quinn picked up his backpack and tossed Nathan a wave on his way out the front door. Nathan returned the gesture and nudged the safe shut with his foot before closing the register. He read over the special orders to see if any of them had come in. The business card of the man from the day before caught his eye, and he sighed. He’d forgotten about the previous day’s encounter. He idly traced the elegant structure on the front of the card. What he wouldn’t give to be normal and able to pursue someone like Erik Moore. The thought was nothing but a pipe dream, really. He’d never be anything except a freak, and thinking of having an actual relationship would only make him depressed, so he pushed the man from his mind. He made a few notes for the day shift employees on who to call and closed the book, leaving it on the counter.
Nathan spun the dial on the safe, ensuring it was secure, and stuffed the deposit in his backpack. The terrifying spirit from the night before didn’t appear again to his relief as he shut off the lights and armed the security system. Maybe he could get home tonight without seeing any at all. Of course, hoping for such a thing jinxed him. Alan materialized to his left while he was locking the door. Nathan sighed and turned to look at the spirit. “Look, I agreed to help you, so why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Did you do any research?” Alan asked eagerly, ignoring his question.
Nathan gritted his teeth but held on to his patience by a thin thread. “I can’t use the internet for personal use while I’m at work.”
Alan floated along at his side as Nathan slung his bag over his shoulder and headed toward the bank. The street wasn’t empty since it was only ten at night, with cars driving by at a fast clip, but the only people on the sidewalk were homeless or prostitutes. Nathan had always felt safe in the area despite the somewhat undesirable reputation. No one ever bothered him, really.
“You don’t have a car?” Alan asked.
“No. Can’t afford one.”
“Oh. You could get a bike,” Alan replied.
Nathan stopped and took a deep breath. “Is there a reason you’re following me?”
“You aren’t working anymore.” He gave the spirit a blank look. Alan rolled his eyes and huffed. “Which means you can research how I died. Duh.”
Nathan growled and balled his hands into fists. “I didn’t say I would do it tonight!”
Alan grinned. “I know, but I want to keep you on track so you don’t forget about your promise.”
Giving a frustrated cry, Nathan swung his bag at Alan, uncaring that it only went through him and didn’t really do any harm. It just made him feel better.
“You okay, son?” A voice came from the shadows at the side of a nearby building.
Nathan jumped and glanced in the voice’s direction. A homeless man lay against the building, a bottle of booze in a brown paper bag in one hand. “I’m fine,” he snarled.
“And they call me crazy,” the man muttered as Nathan started walking again.
He tensed but said nothing. He’d heard it all before: the whispers of others in the hospital when they caught him talking to thin air, the frightened looks and wide berth people gave him when they saw him having a conversation with no one.
He’s crazy.
What a whack job!
So sad about what happened to his parents. It must have driven him insane.
Maybe it’s brain damage.
Such a pity.
Every memory echoed in Nathan’s mind, and he blinked back tears. For so long, he’d been fighting the rumors and trying to forget the accident. The only friend who hadn’t abandoned him had been Troy. Everyone else had grown scared of him, calling him a freak or weirdo. Nathan hid the pain of it all behind the wall he’d built after his parents died. Sometimes the wall slipped, and the despair shone through.
“I’m sorry.”
Nathan realized Alan kept pace with him and he swallowed hard, forcing the shield back into place. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” Alan insisted. “I really am sorry. If I wasn’t desperate for your help, I would have gone away like you asked.”
Nathan shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t. It’s just what your kind does.”
Alan frowned. “My kind?”
“Spirits. Ghosts. Whatever you want to call yourself.”
“Oh.” Alan fell silent for a heartbeat and then asked, “How long have you been able to see them?”
“Too long,” Nathan answered tersely.
Alan sighed. “I know you don’t want to help me, but I really can’t shake the feeling that my fiancé is in trouble and if I don’t get a message to him, he could get hurt or worse.”
Nathan didn’t answer as he crossed the street to the bank, approaching the night drop box near the ATM. He unzipped his bag and took out the deposit. Alan appeared in front of him when he went to open the small door. Nathan jumped and scowled. “Dude, space. I told you to stay away.”
“I know, but I think you need to turn around. Now.”
Nathan spun on his heel and his heart skipped a beat when he saw a guy, lean and mean looking, standing a few feet away and holding a dangerously sharp knife. A tattoo of a snake wrapped itself around the man’s wrist and ran along the skin, disappearing underneath the sleeve of his black t-shirt. Hard brown eyes were set deep in a gaunt face with a hooked nose, obviously broken at some point. Nathan noted the goatee, but he couldn’t make out anything else about the man’s features. He stood just out of the light cast from the ATM and streetlamp.
Damn it. He’d been so wrapped up in trying to ignore Alan, he’d forgotten to pay attention to his surroundings. The music store wasn’t in the best neighborhood and there were always break-ins happening. So far, the store had been lucky. Now he hoped he would be just as lucky.
The guy sneered at him. “Who the hell you talkin’ to, kid?”
“What do you want?” Nathan demanded, ignoring the stranger’s question.
“I should think that’s pretty obvious, kid.” The guy smirked, gesturing with the knife at the bag in Nathan’s hand.
No way in hell would he give him the store’s deposit. Nathan shook his head. “I’m not giving you anything, mister.”
The smirk died. “You lookin’ to die tonight? Give me the fuckin’ bag.”
Alan startled Nathan by saying, “Do it, Nathan. It’s not worth dying over.”
“Shut up,” Nathan snapped at Alan.
The thief assumed Nathan’s words were directed at him and rushed toward him in a rage. Nathan knew he had no chance in hell at getting away with the limp he had, so he held his ground, bracing himself for impact.
What happened next shocked the hell out of him. Nathan found himself shoved out of the way. He landed on the sidewalk with a surprised grunt. What the hell? Nathan looked up just in time to see the thief slam into the ATM. Alan appeared near his left shoulder. “Get up, Nathan. Now.”
Nathan scrambled to his feet, grabbed the deposit bag he’d dropped, and turned to run. Only, he didn’t get very far. He was airborne once more when the thief tackled him from behind. Nathan cried out when his wrists protested their combined weight when they slammed into the cement. Several layers of skin on his palms scraped off as they skidded along the sidewalk and his chin crashed into the concrete, his teeth snapping together with a sickening crunch. The blow stunned him for a moment and then he shouted, “Get offa me.”
The guy grabbed Nathan’s hair and yanked his head back, pressing the knife to Nathan’s throat. Is this how he would die? Wasn’t it what he deserved? He didn’t have the strength to throw the bastard off him or wrestle the sharp blade from the guy’s hand. Instead, he closed his eyes and waited for the end. Maybe he could finally see his parents again.
“Hey! Leave him alone! The police are on their way!”
The weight holding Nathan down to the concrete disappeared instantly, and he opened his eyes to see the guy grab the deposit bag and take off running. Swearing, Nathan watched his job going down the tubes right along with him.
“You okay, young man?” A warm hand settled on his shoulder and Nathan moved to a sitting position to find an old woman, probably in her late sixties or seventies, hovering over him.
“I’m fine,” Nathan replied quietly. He touched his throat, fingers grazing the slight cut left behind by the knife.
She clucked and examined his chin, pulling out a tissue from her sweater pocket and pressing it to the gash. “The police should be here any minute. This neighborhood has become such an awful place in the last few years. Why didn’t you just give him the money? It wasn’t worth dying for or being hurt over it.”
Nathan gave her a wan smile and leaned back against the side of the building behind him. He winced when he clenched his hands and looked down to see scraped skin, bits of dirt and gravel embedded in the cuts. Blood seeped from the deeper ones. His bad leg throbbed, and he knew tomorrow he would be in agony. Despite everything the doctors had done, the bones hadn’t healed right during his long stay in the hospital and rehab center.
The sound of sirens cut through the night air and Nathan sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be going home for at least an hour.