Secret Worlds (152 page)

I waved and headed back in the direction of the city to catch the bus. I noticed a brown-haired guy smiling at me as I walked past the bench he sat on. He was my age at least with strikingly attractive features, so much so that I found it odd he was paying any attention to me. Did he know me or was he just friendly? Either way, I flashed him a brief smile and kept going. Shame, though. A couple years ago, I might have stopped for a chat, maybe asked him to grab a cup of coffee with me. If only I had a life that didn’t involve taking care of dead people.

Night had folded in around the edges of the city by the time I trudged back to my crappy apartment after solving Ming-Na and Ron’s cases. The rent was cheap because it was in a lousy neighborhood, wedged between a liquor store and a barbershop. Lucky for me, it was on the bus line so I didn’t need a car. Work was only a fifteen-minute ride so it all balanced out pretty well. It would probably be more depressing if I weren’t so used to it.

I opened the door to the apartment to find an obscenely tall blond man standing in front of my kitchen counter, stooped over the red leather book that had been on top of the fridge. A year ago, this would have been a strange sight. I didn’t even bat an eyelash—just tossed my keys next to the book and shrugged out of my duster.

“Evening, Gabriel.”

The archangel Gabriel smiled down at me with sky blue eyes. “Good evening, Jordan.”

“Busy day?” I asked, opening the fridge to pull out ingredients to make dinner. Spaghetti tonight, and every day until payday. What a glamorous life I led.

He shrugged. “The usual. I see you have logged two more souls today.”

“Yep. That puts me at ninety-eight. You wouldn’t mind rounding it up to an even hundred, right?” I asked with a voice as sweet as honey. He laughed—a gentle, slightly echoing sound. That creeping sensation of joy rose inside my body and I did my best to ignore it. Gabriel had that effect on human beings. Even though I had known him for two years, it was still really unnerving.

“If only the Good Lord would allow me to. You have done remarkably well this year. You are nearly past the mark to your salvation,” he replied.

I didn’t even bother to shrug. “Ring-a-ding ding.”

He watched me with a considerate look as I went about filling a deep pot with water to cook the noodles. “Something troubling you, my dear?”

“Not at all.” He closed the book and placed it back on the fridge, which was no feat for him since he was close to seven feet tall. Gabriel appeared in his human form because his angel form would have blinded me. He wore a navy Armani tux that easily cost more than my rent. An archangel with impeccable taste, oh my.

“Shouldn’t you be happier about your progress?”

I sat the pot on the stove and turned the dial, watching the coils for the red glow. “It’s hard to get worked up about the fact that even when my debt is paid, I still have to do this for the rest of my life because I’m the only one who can. I don’t like having that decision made for me already, Gabe.”

When I turned to face him, he had a curious expression on his delicate features. I shook my head.

“You don’t get it. It’s fine. You’re a seven-foot angel in charge of delivering God’s will. I wouldn’t expect you to understand the mind of a twenty-one year old American girl.”

I moved to take the spaghetti sauce out of the cupboard when I felt his large, warm hands resting on my shoulders. His face brushed my cheek, voice low and soft with kindness.

“Have faith, Jordan. That is all I ask of you and all you should ask of yourself.”

He kissed my forehead, in the same spot as always—above my right eyebrow. Over the years, it had become a familiar gesture between the two of us. I felt the gentle brush of air as he walked past me and out the door. A lone golden feather drifted to the floor in his wake. I stooped and picked it up, twirling the holy object between my fingers. His pep talk hadn’t worked, but I did love it when he left souvenirs. I tucked the feather in the top of my ponytail and went to gather the seasonings for the spaghetti. All three of them—seasoning salt, garlic powder, and onion powder—were sitting in a row on my counter. Had Gabriel done that while I wasn’t looking?

Once again, I raked my gaze through the apartment for any sort of presence before reminding myself to calm down. Gabriel must have done it, because ghosts can’t touch anything. Relax.

Still, maybe I should sleep with two guns underneath my pillow. A girl can never be too cautious.

“Order up for Tables 6, 10, and 14!” The head chef’s voice beckoned me back to the counter where the steaming portions of fried chicken, grits, corn on the cob, and greens sat waiting for a hand to carry them to the customers. I finished refilling the sweet tea for a gentleman reading the paper on my left before heading back to where the chubby cook bellowed.

The Sweet Spot was a tiny but well-known Southern cuisine restaurant. Odd to have one in Albany, but it was pretty popular. The place was owned by Colton Banks—a South Carolina native who moved up North when he married a New York resident. I’d known him for going on three years and secretly felt a little proud of how the place had bloomed since we met. Not on my account, of course.

I scooped up the three plates and balanced them on my flat, round tray before gliding towards the tables. They were each labeled with little plastic outlines of the state of South Carolina. Corny but memorable, as Colton always said. Work hours were odd for me because I basically went through them with my brain turned off. The hand gestures of writing orders, carrying trays, and pouring drinks came unconsciously. No matter how fast the chef rang up orders, I could get them to tables, no sweat. Most people had a career or were in college in their twenties, but I was dancing the elegant dance of a waitress.

After the plates had been passed out, I set about clearing off the table of a couple who had just left. The pair was currently on the sidewalk giggling obscenities in each other’s ears. Something in my chest ached as I watched them from the corner of my eye. I couldn’t remember what it was like to have a life, let alone a boyfriend. Must’ve been nice.

“Jordan?”

I turned my head to the left to find my best friend and fellow waitress Lauren Yi waving her dishrag at me. She shook her head, biting back a smile.

“You were cleaning the same spot for like a minute. Something on your mind?”

I shrugged. “Not much.”

“There’s a surprise,” she teased, her brown eyes flashing with mischief. That might have offended some people, but Lauren had an abrasive personality. She seemed like a bitch when you first met her but beneath the attitude was a richer, more interesting Lauren. Besides, how many Korean girls worked at Southern cuisine kitchens? Maybe I’d Google the statistics later.

“I’m just saying that you’ve been moodier than usual. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do,” she continued, holding up the salt and pepper shakers while I cleaned underneath them. Maybe I should have told her the truth—that not twenty-four hours earlier the archangel Gabriel was in my kitchen marking off souls in my own personal Penance Book. She’d probably just rent me a nice white padded room and a jacket to match.

“Just tired and ready to call it a week,” I said as earnestly as possible.

She wiped her brow, ruffling her pin-straight black hair. “Aren’t we all? When’s your shift over?”

“Soon. I’ve got a few stops to make and then I’m passing out for the weekend.”

Lauren arched an eyebrow at me. “For a girl with no life, you sure have a lot of ‘stops’ to make. You’re always late for work. What are you doing all the time?”

I met her eyes with a dead serious expression. “I’m Spider-Man.”

She burst into giggles, slugging me in the arm before moving on to the next table. “Get back to work, you moron.”

Her insult seemed to be just the pick-me-up I needed because I finished off my shift with a genuine smile. I waved good night to everyone and headed out of the door into the cool August evening. If I got lucky, I would spot another ghost to finish off my debt. Gabriel seemed to have confidence in me. I could only hope The Big Guy did as well.

Fifteen minutes later, with keys dangling in my hand, I walked up the short stairwell to my apartment only to stop halfway there. The cute guy from the park was leaning against the wall to the left of my door. Shock and fear rolled through me. How did he know where I live? How should I react? Could I get to the gun in time?

Finally, I decided to play it cool and continued up the steps as if nothing had bothered me. When I got closer, I could see him more clearly. He was even more handsome up close. His longish dark brown hair was parted down the middle, hanging low over his forehead and along the side of his neck. Intense sea-green eyes held my gaze.

He smiled at me with those full lips when I walked over. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I replied, not sure of what else to say. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, yes. Mind if we step inside for a chat?”

I glanced around in the narrow, empty hallway. No witnesses. Shit. “Uh, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

The stranger raised his hands. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I swear. You can even pat me down if you want to.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He grinned. “No comment. So how about it? I’ll be quick, I just don’t want an audience.”

I took a deep breath. This was a terrible idea. I knew that. He probably knew that. Still, according to the law I couldn’t shoot him outside of my property and claim self-defense so I might as well go inside. After all, I was a small relatively cute girl and he was a big strapping fellow. The cops would probably believe me over him if I claimed he assaulted me. Morally questionable but effective.

I stuck the keys in the door and nodded. “Yeah, come on.”

When the door opened, he didn’t try to rush me. He stepped inside and watched me close the door. I was careful not to lock it in case I needed to escape. I tossed my duster on the chair by the round kitchen table and headed for the fridge. The key was to act casual. The guy had no idea I owned a firearm, nor was he aware that I knew self-defense.

“So what’s up? I saw you in the park the other day.”

“Yes, you did. I was surprised.” That made me look at him. He seemed serious.

“Why? Were you pretending to be invisible?”

The stranger chuckled, walking towards me. I froze, pulse thundering in my ears as adrenaline shot through me. He stopped a few inches short of actually touching me and murmured:

“You have no idea.”

Still meeting my eyes, he reached up into the cabinet and brought down my favorite green coffee mug. “You were going to make coffee, right?”

The truth hit me like a lightning bolt. How could he have known where that was unless he had been in the apartment? I felt a paralyzing jolt of fear grow in my stomach and spread through my body like cold poison. Then, out of almost nowhere, I got angry.

“You—? You were in my
apartment
? How the fuck did you get in here? Why? Are you some kind of sick freak or something?” I searched for the nearest weapon I could reach. He didn’t even try to defend himself as I discovered a dirty kitchen knife and brandished it at him.

“You and I have something in common, Jordan.”

“You have three seconds to get out of here before I call the cops or stab you, not necessarily in that order.” I held the knife inches away from his throat.

His smile widened into a smirk.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I am
not
playing with you. Get. Out.”

“Y’see, there’s something you can do that other people can’t.”

“
Now
.”

“And that’s how and why I tracked you down.”

“Time’s up. Now get out!” I punctuated the last word by slashing at his arm. The blade met resistance but no blood came out. It just sort of…bounced off.

“I’m dead…and you can see me.”

My mouth dropped open. “You…you can’t be a ghost. You can touch things.”

“I’m a poltergeist. I can touch whatever I want, whenever I want.” He reached a hand out towards my cheek. I flinched, expecting to be hurt but instead it felt like touching some sort of metaphysical barrier. The skin on my cheek tingled, though not in the same way that a ghost passed by me. This sensation was more constant, as if energy were rushing from him to me.

“I need your help. I want to know what happened to me, and you’re the only person in this entire city who can help me.” His voice was gentler now. The teasing smile vanished, leaving his face vulnerable, serious, maybe even wounded.

I shook my head, taking another step back and kept a loose hold on the knife just to make myself feel better. “You were
stalking
me and now you’re asking for my help? You’re out of your damn mind.”

“I don’t
have
a mind to be out of. I can’t remember anything. All I know is that you’re the only person in Albany who can see and hear me. That’s all I’ve got to go on.”

“Give me one good reason to help you,” I shot back, crossing my arms underneath my chest.

The poltergeist paused, softening his tone. “What if the reason I’m dead is that I did something terrible? I can’t go wandering around for the rest of eternity not knowing. Wouldn’t you want to know?”

Something in my chest stung when he spoke those words. He couldn’t possibly have known about what happened to me, but the question wasn’t lost on me. I often wished I hadn’t killed an innocent man or that I could forget about it, but at least I was working to make up for it. If I denied him the same chance, what would that say about me?

“I…I can’t guarantee anything, but I can give it a try,” I said after a long, tense silence.

He sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, I had rummaged through my duster to find my notepad and the mystery dead guy had perched himself on the counter by the sink. My hands still shook a bit as I smoothed down the paper enough to write. How embarrassing.

“What’s your name?”

“Michael. I can’t remember my last name, oddly enough,” he said, his brow wrinkling a bit with worry. I started the page.