Читать книгу The First Ghost - Marguerite Butler - Страница 8

Chapter 4

I tried to sneak into the office. It was lunchtime, and I figured Cruella would be power-lunching somewhere or getting her nails manicured.

Melissa sat at her desk. She has these enormous dark eyes that always look startled, which normally makes her hard to read, but today her expression was pure annoyance. “Finally,” she whispered. “Where have you been?”

“The hospital,” I whispered back. “Thanks for visiting.”

She blinked like the idea had never occurred to her. I had a dim idea there might be flowers or balloons or even a card waiting for me on my desk, but instead there was a terse note. See me. Ginger.

Fabulous.

Melissa leaned closer. “Cruella has been on a real tear. She missed an appointment yesterday.”

I groaned. “Was it an important client?”

“Worse. Her hairdresser. Now Mr. Illyvich says he can’t work her in for another whole week. She’s terrified he’s going to butcher her color in revenge for being stood up.”

Cruella and her stylist have some sort of weird love-hate thing going on. If Mr. Illyvich was pissed at her, she would take it out on me. Never mind that she was a grown woman who should be expected to keep up with her own appointments for a couple of frigging days. The Mr. Illyvich appointment had been on her calendar for two months.

I took a deep breath. Either Cruella wanted to rant and spew and load me up with work or she wanted to fire me. Either way it was going to be unpleasant.

I tried to skulk past Cruella’s door, but her head poked out. “There you are. In my office. Now.” I don’t enjoy being talked to like a wayward child, but I gritted my teeth. Better to get it over with.

“Have a seat.” Ginger swept her hand toward the chenille love seat and settled herself in her leather chair. She steepled her fingers and looked over them at me. “We have a problem, Portia.”

“And what sort of problem would that be, Ginger?” My tone was a little more aggressive than I’d intended.

She raised one overly tweezed eyebrow. “I’m talking about dereliction of duty.”

What the fuck? I’m in the army now? I kept my tone measured and calm. “Ginger, I was hurt.”

“Team players play hurt.”

I was careful not to roll my eyes. Cruella’s father had been a football coach, and she was prone to inappropriate football metaphors. “I was in the hospital.”

“Do you see my hair? Do you?” It looked the same as always. For all the money she spent on it, no one had hair that shade of red. Burgundy is a wine, not a hair color. “I heard about Illyvich,” I said soothingly.

“Gregor Illyvich is considering dropping me from his client list. Do you know what that means? Honestly, Portia! I never thought you would be so irresponsible. It isn’t just the hair. You’ve really put this office behind. We have interrogatories due, and Mr. Butcher keeps calling about his demand letter. I can’t do anything on his case until Skeevick turns down his offer.”

“I had a head injury, Ginger. It’s not like I went to the Bahamas.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I’m going to have to let you go.”

“What? You can’t do that.” I was sure when she’d started the lecture that she was choosing shame over termination. What was the point of both? “You can’t fire me for being hurt!”

“Don’t shout at me.” She leaned backward in her chair. I realized I was halfway across her desk. “I’ve already buzzed security.” Her eyes bugged, reminding me of Billy.

I allowed myself a little smile. “You can’t fire someone for being hurt.” I leaned in closer and lowered my voice. “I’ll sue.”

She fumbled under the desk, looking for her panic button. It was on the floor. She needed to stomp on it, not press it, but I wasn’t about to tell her. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Where were you this morning? You weren’t in the hospital then.”

She was right, but I had the trump card and we both knew it. “I returned to work over doctor’s advice based on a conversation with you. I want a month’s pay.”

“A month? You’re crazy. Go ahead and sue. You’ll never win.”

“It isn’t about winning in court. That isn’t where cases are won and lost. Isn’t that what you always say?”

“You’ll embarrass yourself.” She tossed her head, which was hard to do since she was leaning back in her chair as I loomed over her. Sometimes it’s good to be tall.

“I don’t think I’ll be the one embarrassed, Ginger. Your colleagues will love to hear what I have to say.”

She knew it was true. She had gossiped indiscriminately in front of me. Even worse, I knew everything about her: from her true hair color to which parts of her body got waxed. I made all her appointments.

She pursed her lips. “One month’s pay.”

“And a good reference for my next job.”

“I can’t believe it,” she said. “After all I’ve done for you.”

* * * *

By the time I made it to the DART station, my victorious feeling had faded. I had a check for a month’s wages and a box with the contents of my desk. I also had a ghost and her dog crashing at my place. I took a deep breath. I could do this. I got myself this job, and I could find another. I would get the ghost to cross over, find some place for the dog to live, get myself another job, and reclaim a normal life, one without dead people and their problems.

It’s weird how creepy an empty train is when you’re used to the crush of rush hour. There were a few important-looking business types with briefcases and one or two retirees, but the station was largely deserted. I thought I would have the car all to myself, but an old man with hound-dog eyes and a newspaper tucked under his arm followed me in.

An entirely empty car and he had to sit right next to me. Even worse, he reached in a back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I looked pointedly at the No Smoking sign. He gave a little smile and took one out, but he didn’t light it.

I got up and moved. If he was a mugger, this was his unlucky day. He looked small and weak. I was tall and pissed. I tried to ignore him, but he half-turned and leaned back, looking at me mournfully as the train lurched forward.

“What is your problem?” I snapped.

“We’ve got to talk, doll,” he said in Hephzibah’s voice.

“Yow!” I jumped to my feet and toppled over. I scrambled back up into the seat.

“It’s just me,” Hephzibah said. “Don’t freak.”

“But...but...”

“Mind if I light this?” She held the cigarette up.

“Yes, I do.”

“I can commandeer bodies when I need to. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone in public that way. Anyone looks in, they’ll just see you having a conversation with an old man, not talking to the air. Pretty nifty, huh?”

“Yeah. Nifty.” I took a deep breath. “Actually, it’s weird. But I’m okay now.” I wasn’t okay. I was far from okay. Mother never mentioned anything about Death commandeering bodies.

“Listen up, doll. I can’t keep this up forever, and the clock is ticking. Corinne is in danger.”

I held up my hand to stop her. “Really quick. I saw this...this...thing. Big and fleshy and stinky.”

“I was afraid of that. We’ve got too many unclaimed souls wandering around. That was a demon.” Hephzibah made a face. “Nasty things.”

“A demon? Mother never mentioned demons.” Mother and I were going to have a long talk.

“Your mother doesn’t see them, doll. Few do. For someone so late to the game, you’ve got a wicked strong gift.”

“Lucky me. So what was this demon doing in the train station?”

“It was hunting.”

“Hunting what?”

“Unclaimed souls. It’s dangerous out here for ghosts like Corinne. That’s what we need to talk about.”

“The demon wants Corinne.”

“Among others. She’s not the only one out here. I was worried about the Reclaimers. I didn’t know we had a demon on the loose.”

“What would the demon do with the ghosts if it catches them?”

“Eat their souls.”

“Ew! That’s horrible.”

She shook her head. “You’ve got no idea. It’s like this, doll. If Corinne doesn’t cross over within the week, the Reclaimers will come for her.”

“Reclaimers?”

“Mercenaries. They hunt unclaimed souls. Not like the demon, of course. They don’t eat them. They take ’em and forcibly cross them over. It ain’t pleasant.”

“What happens to them when they’re reclaimed?” I swallowed hard.

“Depends on who hired the Reclaimers. They work all the sides. Corrine’s got sort of a grace period right now, but the clock is ticking. She’s got four days left, and then she’s at risk.”

“What about the demon?”

“If it finds her, she’s toast. She can outrun it for a while, but if it corners her–and they are damned good at doing that–bad things, doll. Very bad things. We got to get this gal crossed over.” She looked down at the cigarette she was holding. “I wanna smoke this thing so bad I can just taste it.”

“Don’t you dare. That thing would kill you if you weren’t already Death.”

“Hey,” the man said in his own voice. “Speak for yourself, girlie. You don’t look so hot, either.”

* * * *

I kept a sharp lookout for Corinne all the way home, or at least I tried to. It was hard with the sleet pelting me. At the moment I couldn’t care less what my woolen hat did to my hair. I pulled the hat tighter until I could tuck the edge under my collar. Shoulders hunched against the precipitation, I darted along the edges of buildings, trying to seek out as much shelter as I could.

I never spotted Corinne, and by the time I squelched into my apartment I was thoroughly cranky. I looked at my pristine fireplace and promised myself that at my next trip to the market I would spring for one of those little Insta-Flame logs.

Dropping the box of my belongings inside the door, I thought about nothing more than putting the kettle on. The murderous card players occupied my kitchen table, but I was so accustomed to their presence I was thinking of naming them.

Then I heard it. Long, low and mournful.

Owwwwoooooo. Owwwwoooooo.

My first thought was that Corinne had learned another new trick. This haunting thing was old already. If she started rattling chains in the attic at night, I was summoning the demon to eat her.

My second thought, and unfortunately the correct one, was that I had a very loud dog in my bathroom trying to get me evicted. “Billy!” I dove for the bathroom and wrenched the door open, prepared to scold him for howling. Instead, my jaw hung open, wobbling up and down fruitlessly with no sound coming out. It had snowed in my bathroom.

I blinked a few times and realized it was a toilet paper blizzard. Billy had found something to do other than howling. A closer inspection revealed that Billy had also entertained himself by gutting the pillow I put in there for his comfort. He’d also peed in the shower.

Mother wouldn’t approve of the words I used, but the dog didn’t care if I cussed him. He jumped and licked my face as I bent over to survey the damage. He’d done a nifty job of clawing the doorjamb. It would take a whole can of spackle and some paint if I wanted to keep my security deposit when I moved.

I looked down at the joyful dog wagging his curly tail. He regarded me with those enormous liquid eyes and cocked his head as if to say, Like what I did with the place? I sighed. It was probably my fault for leaving all those things handy for him.

“We’re gonna have to reach an understanding, dog, or one of us is out of here. Got it?”

His tail wagged, and he darted past my feet.

“Hey! I was starting a lecture. Come back here.” I chased him into the kitchen. The red message light of my phone blinked at me. I couldn’t think of a living soul—or a dead one, for that matter—I wanted to have a conversation with. Good thing Corinne hadn’t appeared yet. I’d have given her an earful about her destructive dog. Things were turning out exactly as I had feared. Three days’ worth of ghosts, and already I had lost my job and had my bathroom ruined.

A sense of duty and, I confess, a niggling curiosity made me push the Play Message button.

“Hi, this is...uh...Dr. Feller. Ethan. Ethan Feller. From Our Lady of Mercy Hospital? You gave me your number?”

Why, yes, I did. This was a message I actually wanted.

“I promised to call you about that girl who died. About the aunt. She was notified and has made arrangements to take the girl’s...uh...remains back to Nebraska. Anyway, I promised to call...so...I was thinking that maybe if you wanted to go out for drinks sometime or something, my number is...”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I did a happy dance around the room looking for something to write with. “He called. He called. He really called.”

Billy thought dancing was a fine idea and pranced around under my feet, doing his best to trip me. He wheezed and snuffled in his excitement. He started to run a circle around the table, then paused and cocked his head to look at the card players.

“Do you see them, too?” I asked.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Corinne hovered over the table, arms crossed. She didn’t seem to notice the man choking his fellow player right under her. Hephzibah was right. Others didn’t see what I did. I envied them. “Looks like someone had a good day.”

“Actually my day sucked,” I said with a grin. “I got fired, your little pooch here has trashed my bathroom, and by now I’m sure the neighbors have figured out I’m hiding a dog.”

Corinne made a sound like sucking air. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to get you canned. Why the dance of joy then?”

“Because the hottest doctor in the whole world called me,” I said smugly. “Okay, the hottest doctor at Our Lady, anyway. But still, dance of joy worthy.”

“A guy? Good for you.”

The pouting was getting old. Granted, there would be no more hot dates for Corinne. That part of her life was done, but she needed to get over it. “Yes, good for me. In case you’ve been too preoccupied to notice, the last couple of days have been pretty shitty for me. I hurt my head. I lost my job. And I see dead people. In fact, I seem to have acquired a dead roommate. Oh, and a dog who’s bent on destroying my bathroom. It’s about time something good happened.”

“He looks hungry,” she said. “Have you fed him?”

I blinked. “No. What does he eat?”

“Dog food, of course. Tell me you at least put down a bowl of water.” She looked around. “Don’t you know anything about animals?”

“When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t expecting to acquire a dog. I’ll get him some food. There’s one of those big chains around the corner from the Laundromat. I see people taking their dogs in there. Billy can go, too.”

“Never. It’s much too cold for him. Isn’t it, puppy boy?”

“Hey, if I’m going out in it, he can, too.”

“You’re wearing a coat.”

“So is he. It’s not too far, and he can poop on the way. He has to poop and pee, right?”

“I’ll go, too.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Corinne. It isn’t safe out there for you.”

“Not safe?” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m already dead. What else could happen?”

I wasn’t sure how much to say, so I settled for, “I saw some weird things today.” Like soul-eating demons. “I think you should stay here where it’s warm and comfortable.”

“Like I care about that. Remember the part about being dead? I’m coming with you. You can’t stop me.”

She had me there, and she knew it. She could follow me all over the world and yap in my ear until I went crazy. “Promise me that if I tell you to run, you’ll do it.”

* * * *

The second Billy saw the leash come out, he raced in circles, making little snork-snork noises.

I poked my head out first to make sure the coast was clear. The rain had eased up, but the sidewalks were still slick. Canterbury Park is a little more pedestrian-friendly than Dallas, and there was a fair amount of foot traffic for the wretched weather. Folks darted in and out of the shopping along the trendy square filled with boutiques and niche markets. I passed the square by and continued on to the less trendy, but heavily trafficked chain stores. They weren’t pretty, but they had what I needed.

Along the way I stayed on alert for potential demons or other nasties, but I didn’t see anything scarier than the guy in a dirty down jacket arguing loudly with himself as he jaywalked through traffic.

Deftly dodging the spray from vehicles swooshing through puddles, we arrived at Petland only moderately cold and wet. Billy immediately remedied his wetness with a thorough shaking, managing to do to me what the traffic hadn’t.

“Gee thanks,” I muttered, brushing at the muddy slush on my clothes. He took the time to shake each paw and lick his balls before agreeing to accompany me through the store.

He pin-balled down the aisles, snuffling with pleasure, hiked a leg and watered a sack of cat food. A hasty look around assured me that this had gone unnoticed.

Who knew there were so many types of dog food? Three aisles? Were they kidding?

“He likes this one.” Corinne floated near the sacks. “He likes the chicken flavor. And this gravy over the top. It has vitamins for a shiny coat.”

I checked the prices. “No freaking way.”

“Can I help you?” A woman in a blue smock with handy pockets for treats stood at the ready. “What’s your baby’s name?” She bent over to Billy, who flopped over exposing his belly. She rubbed it as he snork-snorked appreciatively.

“His name is Billy. I’m looking for dog food,” I said. Duh. “I don’t know what kind to get.”

“I just told you,” Corinne said.

I ignored her. “I adopted him today, and I’ve never had a dog before.”

I obviously said the magic words, because the clerk lit up like a kid at Christmas. “Oh, how wonderful! That is wonderful. Good for you. You saved a life today.” She beamed at me. “Now this is what the vet recommends.” She pointed to the same pricey bags Corinne had tried to steer me toward.

“Hah!” Corinne said.

“Why is it so expensive?”

“It’s very balanced nutrition.”

“What’s wrong with this kind?” I pointed to a yellow bag. “I see them on TV.”

The clerk gave me a pitying look. “Nothing wrong with it, if you don’t mind feeding your dog corn and fillers.”

“Corn is bad?”

“It’s a common allergen. It adds bulk to the food, but it isn’t digestible. So you know what that means.” She looked meaningfully at Billy’s rear. “What goes in must come out.”

“Gotcha. So this expensive stuff makes less poop.”

“Exactly.” She gave me a huge smile. She had me, and she knew it. I looked at the prices and shook my head again. For that price, Billy had better shit gold bricks.

I had thought I would buy a little sack of food for a few days and maybe a water dish, because he wasn’t drinking out of my good china. Turns out, my arms couldn’t carry everything I ended up with. Billy needed food and the gravy for his coat—if the food was so balanced, why did he need supplements—a dog bed that was guaranteed to be rip-tear proof, chewy treats and toys to keep him from destroying my apartment, pooper-scooper supplies. Ugh.

I balked when it came to buying animal parts for him to gnaw on. I said no to pig’s ears and cow hooves. Billy was thrilled with the bins of bones and bits. His smashed-up little nose was going crazy whuffling and snorking.

“What’s that?” I pointed to a long, slender thing that looked an oddly shaped rawhide chew. “A bull stick?”

Andrea blushed and whispered in my ear.

“Ew! Who buys things like that?” Dog lovers had a lot to answer for in my book.

I left with my arms laden with packages and my bank account considerably lighter.

Corinne was insufferable all the way home. Where’s a demon when you need one?