Chapter 2
TWO
CASPER THE HORNY GHOST
CASSIDY
“Hey, Cassidy. You want a ride home?”
During a closing shift, us regular employees stick around until the grill is shut off, the tables are clean, and all side work is prepped for the openers.
The Shadowvale Diner is Cookie’s life. He works twelve-hour shifts six days a week—since we all get off on Sunday which is, well, kind of weird to me…
but, hey, Shadowvale—and will always be at the diner when it’s open.
Emily usually is, too, and they’re both inside now, counting the day’s deposit.
With that being the last step before they lock up, Em let me and Derek head out a few minutes early.
Derek mentioned that he’d had to take his car to Mac’s Garage for a tune-up so I wasn’t surprised to see Faye’s little white car in the near-empty parking lot.
I say white only because I know that’s what the car’s color really is.
Tonight? Under the magenta neon sign announcing that this is the Shadowvale Diner, her car looks almost pink.
It’s a coupe. Technically there’s four seats, but to get in the back, I’d have to climb in. Not only that, but two years hiding out has left me with some iffy habits. Derek and Faye seem like sweet kids, but I’d rather not lead them right to my apartment.
With my luck, one day I would find Ryan waiting on the porch because Derek was trying to be helpful and passed my address along to him.
No, thanks.
I shake my head, hugging my purse to me. “I’m okay, but thanks. It’s a beautiful night and I have to get my steps in.”
She laughs. “Didn’t you just work, like, eight hours on your feet?”
“Yeah, but I’m used to that. If I want to stay healthy, I’ve got to do extra. Besides, I’m not too far from here. Ten minutes tops.”
Actually, twenty, but the less people who know that, the better.
Derek plops into the passenger seat, leaning over to peck Faye on the cheek. “Don’t feel too bad, babe. I offered Cass a ride when she first started working with us and it was snowing. Not even my charming smile swayed her.”
She turns, squeezing his chin. “You do have a charming smile. It would’ve worked on me.”
“It did.”
She giggles, and I feel awkward standing here. I should just start walking, but I’d rather wait until they pull out of the lot.
Because, you know, the whole paranoia thing.
I was getting so much better. Whole days would pass where I could forget that Ryan Donovan existed before something would remind me of him. I even forgot to lock my apartment door a couple of weeks ago. I was getting comfortable in Shadowvale… but it’s like something shifted when October hit.
I feel eyes on me all the time. That doesn’t help when it’s dark by six-thirty now, and I’m heading out into the night by the time we’re ready to go. It would be so easy to say ‘screw it’ and accept a ride, but I can’t.
So I don’t.
Same when Faye throws out a well-meaning invitation to join her and Derek at next week’s Halloween party. I know she’s only offering because she’s kind, and I’m still considered an outsider. This will be my first Halloween in Shadowvale and, for some of the locals, that’s a big deal.
But Derek and Faye are almost a decade younger, and my college days are far behind me. The same goes with Halloween parties. I already have my plans, though I feel bad enough about rejecting the ride that I give a non-committal answer when it comes to joining them at the party.
That’s good enough for the two of them. Wishing me a good night, Faye drives off, and I start the trek home.
The feeling from the diner earlier returns with a vengeance.
I’m used to it on my walk home. Shadowvale earns its name.
Between the alleyways that appear as pitch-black portals off of the cross streets, and how everything goes quiet when the sun goes down, anything could be hidden in the depths of its shadows.
I stay to the street lamps, finding solace in the safety of the light.
A car alarm blares somewhere behind me. Glass tinkles in the near distance. Fear lodges in my throat and I swallow it roughly. Tightening my hold on my purse so that I don’t look like an easy target, I speedwalk the rest of the way to my apartment building.
I let out a sigh of relief once my sneakers land on the porch steps. They’re made of cement, but old enough that the edges have chipped away. I dance up the four stairs, letting myself into the lobby.
There’s supposed to be a guy on duty before eight.
His name is Earl, and he’s the landlord/maintenance man/guard during the daytime hours.
I think I’ve seen him, like, ten times outside of me dropping my rent check off at his first-floor apartment.
The first time he was missing from his post, my heart got caught in my throat, sure that Ryan got to him.
Nope. His door was open, letting every resident see that our super was passed out on his recliner, snoring the afternoon away. Since then, I just grumble to see the station empty, then cross my fingers that the elevator is working.
By this point, I’ve gotten in more than enough steps. My toes are barking after another long day on my feet, and the prospect of climbing even three flights of stairs—since the lobby doesn’t count as floor one—has me ready to curl up in one of the stairwells and pass out there.
I won’t. Not when I can’t shake that unsettling feeling that someone is right fucking there. I can’t escape the sensation, not even in my apartment, but at least I have a kitchen full of knives and a bolt on my front door up there.
So I drag myself up the three flights, only letting down my guard once I’ve locked myself in the apartment after I’ve cleared it. Kicking off my sneakers, I’m thinking about what I’m going to do for dinner and to unwind when I realize that I forgot to pee before I left the diner.
I’m tired. It was a long shift, and we had a crew of construction workers who each needed an app, a burger, fries, and a shake during the lunch rush. I left with a good amount of cash in my purse, but I earned every single one of those tip dollars.
I’m tired, and that’s why I have a hard time believing what I’m seeing as I slump into the bathroom.
I had a shower this morning. Sure, I like the water as hot as if the tap led straight to Hell itself, so while I’m used to a mirror fogging up, there’s no reason why there should still be a hazy patch about the size of a dinner plate in the middle of the glass.
Not only that, but it looks like someone dragged their finger right down the center of it.
What the—
I grab the hand towel I keep on the side of my sink to dry my hands. Frowning, I wipe at the patch. It erases easily for the most part, and I shake my head before dropping the towel back in place.
Weird.
So weird that I decide that, you know what, I don’t think I need to pee at all anymore.
I turn, reaching for the light switch, pausing again when I…
I don’t know. I thought I saw a pair of eyes reflecting back at me in the lingering condensation.
They could’ve been mine, but that doesn’t make much sense, either.
Because I have light brown eyes. And the ones I saw?
They were blue.
I don’t feel so good.
Something’s not right. At first, I thought the frozen pizza that I ate for dinner was messing with my stomach.
I drink way too many cups of free coffee at the diner, and whenever I close, Cookie offers to grill me up something to take with me to go, but I’m already squeezing myself into my uniform.
I must’ve put on a good ten, fifteen pounds since I moved to Shadowvale, and while I’ve always been a thicker girl, I’ve had enough bacon cheeseburgers to last a lifetime.
Frozen pizza might not be all that healthy, but at least I can control the portion size before saying ‘fuck it’ and diving into the freezer for my favorite rocky road ice cream.
I only had two scoops. That, plus the pizza, plus my smidge of lactose intolerance that I’ve been ignoring for years now…
it would explain the rumble in my belly that started halfway through Beetlejuice.
I chased my ice cream with a little alka-seltzer, and I thought I was doing better until I got to the end of Lost Boys and I realized that I was feeling a bit feverish.
Not sick, though. The heat was pooling a little lower, and though the vampires in the movie were pretty attractive if I forget that they’re all forty years older than me, they’re not so hot that I should be crossing my legs during the big fight scene at the end.
It only gets worse as the movie finishes.
The moment I turn off the television in the living room, dragging myself to my bedroom, closing the door behind me and leaning up against it, I tell myself I’m being ridiculous.
That the notable heat between my legs, the pulse in my throat, the aching buzz beneath my skin hasn’t gotten worse as the night went on.
That my last year of celibacy—only broken once since I left Ryan thanks to a one-night stand I had in Philly before I was forced to move again—hasn’t finally taken a toll on me.
But the apartment is heavy tonight. The quiet weighing on me, watching, the continued sensation that I’m not alone.
I know I am. Like always, I checked every inch of my apartment with my phone in hand in case Ryan tracked me down and found a way inside. He’s not here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t shake the feeling that someone is.
It’s been like that ever since I came to stay in Shadowvale. It was fleeting in the beginning, enough for me to brush it off, but lately… I can’t.
Just like earlier, I remember how the little hairs on my arms stood on end. I remember how I thought that the… thing stalking me couldn’t be human.