Chapter 10 #2
Catcher bounded up the steps and shook out his coat. He was oblivious to the specter squatting next to him. Most animals couldn’t see ghosts, but cats could.
I sat in a chair and raised my pant legs. Then I deliberately crossed my legs with Chastity front and center. She was my trusty cat tattoo, meant to ward off the dead.
Cleo’s eyes fixed on my leg apprehensively. “I don’t like that thing staring at me. Put it away.”
“What’s up, Catcher?” I asked.
He raised his head and howled to tell me all about his morning. Then he rubbed against my chair, begging for a scratch. When I got that spot behind his ear he liked, he jumped onto my lap and covered me with wolf hair.
“What am I, your personal groomer? If we keep this up, we’ll be mated.”
Catcher jumped down and trotted to the magnetic screen door. After a few sniffs, he ambled lazily to the end of the shady porch, yawned, and sat down. He was bored and wanted to play. On any other morning, I would’ve let my wolf run with him, but I had a conundrum to figure out.
Darcy was chatty. So far, no sign of malicious intent, but I’d give it time. My blood pressure skyrocketed as she continued talking. She was ruining everything. Arrowhead was my sanctuary, and now she might invite other phantoms into my private space to inflict psychological damage.
I scraped my fingernail against the armrest. All I could think about was drinking her away, but that wasn’t a habit I wanted to start doing at home. A beer now and again was one thing, but all I thirsted for at the moment was silence.
“You don’t know how lucky you have it,” I said to Catcher. “No responsibility, no expectations. You’re just out here living your best life.”
“Are you one of those complainers?” Darcy piped in. “I bet you are.”
Dark memories from my past surfaced. I’d spent my life in music bars and concerts, hanging out with hippies and free spirits in search of inner peace.
I’d become adept at spotting ghosts and dodging eye contact, and the best part about country life was there weren’t as many dead people.
Simple math: The higher the population, the more ghosts there were.
I glared at Darcy and finally asked, “What do you want from me?”
Catcher cocked his head.
The ghost sauntered up to my chair—hands tucked in her imaginary pockets—and batted her eyelashes. “I want a friend. And a place to call home.”
“You want a favor. Tell me what it is so we can part ways.”
She jerked her head back. “You need to chill out. First of all, I don’t have money. Secondly, I’m not looking for a favor. I’m lonely, and I can’t make real friends because all the spirits are psychopathic morons. Besides, you seemed nicer than the other Gravewalkers.”
“I’m not a nice guy.”
“I can tell you’re nice. You don’t have to worry—I’m not like other ghosts.”
“You’re not staying here,” I informed her matter-of-factly. “This is my home.”
Melody stepped outside. “Who are you talking to?”
I pointed at Catcher. “He’s a good listener but a bad conversationalist.”
“Do you mind modeling for me? I need measurements for a prototype.”
I flashed her a cocky smile and stood. “Do you have a tape measure large enough?”
“I’m a cowboy!” I sang off-key and drunkenly to an unwilling audience from my tabletop.
Calvin jerked my ankle. “You keep singing like that and people will want you more dead than alive.”
I lost my balance and crashed on top of him.
Covering the old guy like a weighted blanket, I smiled and traced my finger down the tracks of his wrinkles. “You’re a man with lots of secrets, Calvin Lachance. Are you really a Shifter? I heard a rumor—”
Calvin threw me off and then knelt. “Your Packmaster’s on his way to scrape you off my floor. I’ve warned you about sneaking sensory drinks. There’s a limit.”
Now that was hilarious coming from a man who had no qualms about serving me more than the one-drink maximum.
Sometimes he did it for his own entertainment.
Other times, he was testing out a new sensory product.
I’d had four drinks, and now the world was a magical, glittery merry-go-round of happiness.
I twirled his long hair around my finger. “You gave me two.”
“And that’s all you were allowed,” he countered.
“Whatever I serve is what you get, and I’m generous.
I know you’re half Gravewalker and need a little extra to polish off the specters, but fucking hell, if you sneak around my back one more time and ask these other jackasses to buy you one, I’ll ban you indefinitely. I mean it.”
“What did I do?” I whined. “You’re getting paid, and I didn’t break anything. I didn’t hurt anybody.”
“You’re a liability. And when you’re this drunk, you can’t hold a fucking tune. It scares people off.”
That was true.
I sat up and looked at where my shirt had rolled up my exposed belly. My skin and nerve endings were all wonky. “That’s not your usual formula.”
“No, it’s not. A recluse sold them to me. She likes taking acid trips beforehand. That’s why I have to buy it by the bottle. I can’t have some stoned bartender working under my roof. Fuck me,” he muttered. “Go sit down and sober up before Tak gets here.”
I was certain Calvin helped me off the floor but couldn’t remember my journey past the bustling pool tables and into a booth seat. After reclining on the bench, my feet on the floor, I stared at the ceiling while the music shuffled from one bad eighties song to the next.
Fortunately, the sensory magic dulled Darcy’s existence. She had dutifully spent all day by my side.
All day.
She was beside me in the chicken coop as I gathered eggs, during every bathroom trip, and on the table while I played gin rummy with Cici, who wanted to pass the time while waiting on a shipment of books to arrive.
During lunch, Darcy paced back and forth on the table while criticizing everyone’s eating habits.
And at dinner, I couldn’t concentrate on anything anyone was saying because she sat in the vacant chair next to me, telling me all about her ghosty-ass life.
It was all I could do not to scream when she put her shoes on my plate.
Some ghosts were easily distracted, so I thought a trip to the Rabbit Lounge might shake her off.
She stayed glued to my side, but with each sensory drink, Darcy faded into the background until I couldn’t hear her anymore.
Drugs worked in a way alcohol alone didn’t.
They altered my brain chemistry enough to make specters tolerable if not temporarily invisible.
Darcy’s blurry face appeared in front of mine. It pissed me off. That meant the sensory magic was fading, so I flew out of my seat. “Leave me alone, dead girl! I’m not your plaything.”
If anyone was staring, I didn’t care. Everyone knew I was a crossbreed. After coming out to my pack, there was no point keeping my identity a secret.
I grabbed chalk from a pool table and pitched it at her, but it went straight through.
At least I can’t hear her.
Ideally, it would last long enough for me to fall asleep.
I crawled onto an empty pool table and curled up beneath the bright overhead light.
“Who’s that?” I asked, swatting at someone stroking my hair.
Archer came into focus. “Hey, buddy. You okay?”
“Virgil Nightingale is always okay.”
Tak and Calvin were in the background, talking.
“He’s mad, isn’t he?” I lowered my head.
“He’s worried. Can you get up?”
I gripped Archer’s shirt. “Do me a favor. When we get home, wrap me up in Christmas lights.”
His brow creased in confusion. “What?”
“You heard me. I want to be lit up like a Christmas amusement park. Better yet, put me in Lucian’s security room.”
“Come on. Let’s go home.” He hooked his right arm beneath me. “You’re gonna have to help me.”
I clutched his neck as he raised me to a sitting position. With my legs dangling off the table, I leaned against my friend.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
That was the joke of the century. My legs dangled like limp spaghetti noodles.
“What’s up with you tonight?” Archer wiped my face. “Did someone hurt you?”
When I touched my face and saw tears, I realized this sensory formula had tapped into my deepest emotions.
Panicked, I jumped to my feet and wobbled like a baby standing for the first time.
Arms outstretched, I found my balance and staggered sideways to the door.
The lights swirled like a fireworks show as seen from underwater.
Despite my involuntary tears, my overall mood remained mellow thanks to the emotions imbued in the alcohol.
“Virgil!” Tak called out.
Running away seemed totally logical.
Once outside, I sprinted across the gravel parking lot before slamming into a parked car. Didn’t even feel it.
Disoriented, I stared at a tire and contemplated my life choices. I wanted to avoid the inevitable confrontation with my Packmaster.
Heavy footfalls crunched on the gravel before Tak’s large hand gripped my shoulder.
“Virgil, look at me,” he commanded.
“No.”
I didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face. Instead, I listened to the rhythmic popping of hot engines in the parking lot competing against the hum of music from inside the bar.
Tak hauled me to a sitting position and propped me against the car like a doll. He turned his attention to Archer. “Leave us.”
Archer gave a curt nod before disappearing out of view.
Tak sat down facing me, one knee bent. “What happened tonight?”
“Nothing. Calvin served me drinks.”
“He gave you two. That’s over the limit, but it’s his bar, so I can’t argue.
He said you went around his back and paid people to buy you more.
I’ve warned you about that. I’m not your babysitter.
You’re a grown man. If you want to have a good time, that’s all fine.
It’s Shifter country out here, so we get a little wild.
But you’re taking a gamble when you’re this inebriated. ”
“It won’t happen again.”
He swept back hairs that had freed themselves from his braid. “I’ve never seen you like this before. Except for that one time when you got on the roof. What’s bothering you?”