Chapter 1
Chapter one
Shiny New Toy
Cian
Ilean in toward the window and concentrate my breathing so that I can fog up the pane enough to play tic-tac-toe against myself for the millionth time.
I crossed the line from bored to slightly unhinged about two months ago.
My house has been vacant for almost six months now.
Six months of nothing—and no one to watch.
I’m not a creep, I swear. I’m just dead. Dead, and very bored.
I drag my finger in a line across the grid, racing against the receding fog.
The O’s win again. I’m so fucking sick of tic-tac-toe.
I stare out the window, past my makeshift game board, past the gently dancing colors of leaves on the old oak tree out front.
My vision blurs as I think back on my last person, Kathleen.
She was a sweet older woman with five cats too many.
Cats don’t like me, they can sense me and it makes them more finicky than normal.
She wasn’t as exciting to watch as the couple before her—they had scheduled sex twice a month.
He was into model cars, and she was into the FedEx guy…
or he was into her, I guess. Anyway, Kathleen wasn't the most entertaining, but she was too wholesome not to like. Plus, her loneliness complimented mine and it was the closest I’d gotten to companionship since dying.
I rub my chest and sigh. I need someone to move into my fucking house.
A car door slamming pulls me out of my thoughts and I sit forward too quickly, smacking my head against the window.
Sonofabitch. The outside walls of my house are the only ones that I can’t phase through, which is why the windows are perfect for my stupid games.
I shake my head and focus my attention out the window.
Gabbi Hernandez, the realtor, is walking up my driveway nervously jingling her keys in hand while she watches my window.
There’s no way she can see me, but I swear she knows my house is haunted.
A nervous sort of excitement settles in my stomach at the possibility that she’s finally found me a new person.
I back away from the window and let myself float through the floor until I’m sitting on the light granite kitchen counters with my back against the side of the refrigerator and my legs stretched out in front of me, almost touching the sink.
I hear the keys in the lock and Gabbi’s muffled curses as she struggles with the doorknob and roll my eyes.
She always forgets to turn it an extra half-turn to avoid jamming it.
I wave my hand in her direction and lean my head back against the fridge as the door slowly swings open.
Gabbi’s deep brown eyes go wide and she stands there for a moment staring at her hand, which is still held as if she was gripping the door knob.
She clears her throat and takes her hand back quickly, eyes darting around the room as she leans in slightly and whispers a shaky, “ehrm… t-thank you”.
My brow quirks and a slight smile curves one corner of my mouth as she shakes her head and quickly retrieves her keys from the door.
My stomach is in knots and I take a steadying breath to calm myself before I accidentally make something break and scare her off.
Gabbi has never acknowledged me before, and after going so long without someone to watch, even that small interaction has me feeling less alone.
I rub my hands on my pants as if they were clammy as I wait for her to give me any clue as to why she’s here.
Please, let it be someone interested in my house, please.
I cross my legs at the ankles and gently shake my top foot with impatience.
Gabbi pauses to turn the lights on and then leaves the door open as she walks toward the island while wrestling with her keys.
She unclips my house keys from her key ring and gingerly sets them down on the counter.
Her phone chimes and she jumps, clutching her chest with her free hand.
I frown and lean forward as she pulls her phone out of her purse.
Before she’s even got her screen unlocked I’m behind her, floating far enough above her that she won’t feel my presence and get spooked, but close enough to see her screen.
I watch as her delicate fingers swipe open her phone and pull up her messages.
Trissa Wilde: Pulling up on the place now
Gabbi takes in a breath and nods as she slides her phone into her pocket.
Trissa Wilde. I don’t know why, but I like her name. I wonder if it’s another little old lady like my Kathleen. My chest aches with the hope I’m afraid to give into. I frown slightly and wrinkle my nose. Hopefully this one doesn’t have a hovel of cats.
Gabbi bites her lip, looking uncertain as she glances around the kitchen while she backs up toward the still open door. She clears her throat and her brow pinches as she speaks, “J-just… just be gentle with this one. Please”.
I tilt my head and watch as she walks out, leaving the door open slightly.
That’s strange. And slightly offensive, as I’ve never done anything malicious to any of my people.
Well… except that one a few years back, but he deserved it, so that doesn’t count.
I look back to the island counter where the keys to my house are resting.
She’s never done that before, especially not on a walk-through.
My curiosity is at an all-time high as I float over to the window to try and get a better look at what’s happening.
Gabbi is standing between her car and a sleek black one I’ve never seen before.
The dust from my driveway is still settling as the driver’s side door opens.
I hold my breath. Well, not really, but my ghostly body can’t help indulging in the familiar.
I frown as a man steps around the car. My heart sinks.
This is Trissa Wilde? Maybe it’s another couple?
I sigh at the disappointment that it’s not an older person.
Younger people tend to be out more than they stay home, which makes my days that much more boring.
It doesn’t help that this guy looks like a tool.
My eyes search the passenger side, but come up empty.
Huh. I’ve never had a bachelor before. The man smiles salaciously at Gabbi and I feel myself tense up as a small growl escapes me.
He’s about 5’9 with short bleach blond hair that looks freshly cut and a patchy goatee.
He’s tan and I grudgingly admit that he seems well-muscled.
I look down at my own, much leaner frame and frown.
Something about him makes my hackles rise.
His smile is charming and predatory, and I silently urge Gabbi to send him packing.
Why would she want me to be nice to this prick?
The man looks to the rear passenger side door and rolls his eyes while letting out a loud, obnoxious laugh. I hate him. Great.
Gabbi looks uncomfortable and smiles tightly as her eyes wander first to the car door that Captain Douche is reaching for, and then my window.
I can’t help you out there, hen. Gabbi shifts slightly closer to her car and says something to the Cap as he reaches into the backseat.
He fumbles around for a moment before lifting something out of the back of the car.
I lean in until my nose touches the glass. Not something—someone.
If I had a heartbeat, my heart would be racing.
I watch as boy wonder swings around with my new person in his arms. His hold on her is sloppy at best, and he sets her down haphazardly, only reaching out to help hold her up when she stumbles.
He curses and Gabbi gives him a scathing glance before rushing forward to help support the girl.
I feel my lip curl in anger at his carelessness, but it’s half-hearted.
I can’t take my eyes away from her. I haven’t got a great view of her yet, but what I can see leaves an impossibly dry feeling in my throat.
Where Gabbi is tall and slender, this woman—I’m assuming the real Trissa, is slightly shorter with enough curves to get lost traversing the beautiful landscape of her body.
A small whine escapes my throat as my eyes trace her form.
She’s got on worn Converse, leggings, and a form-fitting tee that says, “I got 99 problems… no, seriously. Help”.
I huff out a little laugh at that. Her head hangs kind of limply forward as Cap pulls her toward my house.
Her medium-length hair is loosely braided off to one side and shines a vibrant blue.
I’ve never seen anything like it in person, and I’m mesmerized.
That bright blue hair would look stunning against the pale of death.
I pull back from the window in shock. What the fuck is wrong with me?
I’ve been dead for fifty years, and in all that time I’ve never…
I mean, I would never… I’m not that kind of ghost. I’m not exactly thrilled with my lot in life, or death, I suppose.
That doesn’t mean I would wish this existence on anyone else. Especially not her.
I float over to the door as they get closer.
I’m telling myself it’s because I’m worried about her, and not because I need to be closer to get a better look.
It’s a semi-convincing argument, especially since I am concerned about why it’s taking two people to help her walk into the house.
Is she ill, or maybe hurt? My chest feels pinched as I hear Captain Douche let out a loud sigh as he comes into the kitchen sideways, pulling Trissa and Gabbi behind him.
“Triss, c’mon baby. Let’s go, huh? I don’t have all day.” My skin crawls at his familiarity and use of endearment.