Chapter Two

Chapter Two

And the award for

Chump of the Year goes to…

—T-shirt

Don’t do it.

Jason’s words hit like a forty-five-caliber round to my chest. Emotion seared across my skin and burned the backs of my eyes. A bit dramatic, maybe, but holy shit. Not only had I been duped, tricked into coming to Idaho—a fact that stunned me more than I cared to admit—but I’d also been lured into an impossible situation.

Don’t do it.

Part of me wanted to rip my best friend’s head off. He had no right to lay this on me. But I quickly made a mental U-turn. Out of every man in the bar—short, tall, beefy, small—Jason Vigil was the only one who could very likely take me in a bare-knuckle brawl. We’d both been boxers in high school, trading off championships like a baseball fan trades cards. We’d graduated to mixed martial arts soon after. Even then, I’d hated fighting Jason. We were too close, brothers, and I’d always wondered if he pulled his punches.

I didn’t want to find out. Not now. And I didn’t want to discover which of us had weathered our respective years best. If things didn’t go as planned, I would be humiliated for the second time that day, and my self-esteem could only take so many hits.

Not to mention the fact that I couldn’t throw a punch anymore to save my life. I couldn’t fight if I wanted to. I was absolutely useless.

Don’t do it.

Despite my best efforts, my gaze flitted to the girl. Her haunted expression didn’t sway me. Didn’t even nudge the needle. I didn’t care if she’d been terrorized for years. That she looked as thin and frail as a paper doll. That she’d tried to take her life. I was done. Done with ghosts. Done with hellhounds. Done with demons—especially demons. Fuckers. None of it mattered. None of it was my problem. Not anymore. Even when she looked up from her book, her gaze meeting mine, and I found myself treading frantically just to keep my head above the murky depths I found there. I didn’t budge.

Don’t do it.

“You seem upset.”

I turned back to Jason and quickly reassessed my chances of getting in a kidney punch before he took me to the mat. If I was certain I could take the shot, which I wasn’t, I may have tried. “You think?”

The muscles in Jason’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward onto his elbows. “I’m sorry.”

“About which part? The luring me here under false pretenses bit, or the fact that you’re ruining my vacation?”

“Neither.” He pointed over my shoulder. “I think she recognized you.”

I whirled around.

She was headed our way, carrying the mug and her book.

“That’s my cue.” Jason flew out of his chair and booked it to the kitchen. Cowardly bastard.

The seat he’d vacated didn’t stay empty for long. Before I could get up and run myself—I said he was a cowardly bastard, not that I wasn’t—she sank into Jason’s chair, folding her long legs as gracefully as a fawn settling onto a forest floor.

“It’s you,” she said, clearly just as surprised to see me as I was to see her. She put the mug and book on the table, apparently planning to stay a while.

Why did she seem so fragile now, when I would’ve sworn she was seconds away from chopping me to pieces with a battle axe an hour ago? Why were her features so much more delicate? Her eyes so much more expressive? And blue. The smooth, cobalt blue of a ceramic bowl. Had they been this blue before? Or did they change with her moods?

Either way, her father was right. She would choose a period over a pause, though not for a few months. Only this time, she would succeed. I saw her last moment—chewed nails, limp hands, wrists open—in a bathtub soaked with blood, her bent knees protruding out of the water. November 12th. 8:28 p.m.

For the love of God, Eric, don’t fucking do it. If you fail, and you will fail…

No. Just no. There was nothing I could do. I could not take this on. I would not take this on. I’d text Jason the details of her death so her father could stop it and be on my merry way before anyone—namely, my friend—even knew I’d left.

I shook out of my thoughts, nodded a greeting that served as both hello and goodbye, and started to rise. But before I could take my leave, the tinny voice of an elderly woman drifted toward me—one who’d died in her sixties sometime in the sixties.

“I like her,” she said, beaming at the oblivious blonde.

With a heavy sigh, I sank back into the seat and cast a sideways glance at my boss’s aunt, always impressed with how much her blue hair glowed, even in the afterlife. At some point before her death, Aunt Lillian—as she’d insisted I call her—had been swallowed whole by one of those floral tents. She wore an impressive array of love beads and had a brown leather strap tied around her wrist.

I’d asked her once how she died. She’d mentioned a hippie commune, a love affair with a bona fide shaman, and a bad batch of LSD. My only disappointment when I first met her was that she didn’t have a peace sign painted on her cheek.

“She seems sad, though,” Aunt Lil continued.

“How did you recognize me?” I asked Halle, ignoring the woman who’d followed me all the way from Santa Fe. “I was wearing a helmet.”

Halle pointed. “The New Mexico shirt with the Breaking Bad RV is hard to forget.”

“Right.”

She dropped her gaze, denying me the pleasure of looking into her blue irises for a few painful seconds. “I’m sorry. About the convenience store. I thought my houseboat was on fire and didn’t have enough gas to make it to the marina.”

“Why?”

She looked up, and the air fled from my lungs. “Because my truck was on empty.”

“What? No. I meant why did you think your houseboat was on fire?”

“Oh, I got an alert on my phone. I panicked and took it out on you. I just want you to know I’ve never done anything like that before. Not ever,” she added when I eyed her doubtfully. “I swear.”

I studied the dark circles under her eyes, her chapped lips, her nails that had been chewed raw, and fought the concern inching up my chest.

“Not once.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and reopened a small cut that had been healing before adding, “In my life.”

“I know what never means,” I said, pretending to be unmoved and wondering if I should apologize for revving my engine every time she tried to talk.

“I believe her,” Aunt Lil said. She nudged me. Or she would have if she weren’t incorporeal. Instead, her elbow slid across my arm like a shadow. “I think we should take her case, Constantine.”

I closed my eyes and prayed for patience.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you.” Halle grabbed her book and mug and started to leave.

“What kind of security system alerts you that your house is on fire?” I asked, interrupting her departure.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve never heard of a home security app doing that.”

She sat down again. “Oh, yeah.” She pulled her phone out of a small bag slung over one shoulder and started to show me but then seemed to change her mind. “Well, it’s supposed to. But mine… Security systems don’t like me in general, but this was a first. I’ve never gotten a fire alert.”

“Then your houseboat wasn’t on fire?”

“No. And let me tell you, the firefighters who showed up were not happy.”

“Firemen!” Aunt Lillian said, perking up. “I wonder if they were hot.”

I laughed softly for Halle’s benefit, not Aunt Lillian’s. I didn’t dare encourage the woman. “You would think they’d be happy—”

“Ask her if they were hot.”

“—not having to fight a fire and all.”

“You’d think,” Halle said. “You’re Jason’s friend?”

“The one and only,” I said, offering her a grin.

She smiled, just barely, and the Earth stopped spinning on its axis for several precious seconds. A thousand years from now, all the clocks would be wrong, thanks to that hiccup. This would throw everything off.

“My dad told me about you. Jason has him convinced you’re the real deal.”

“The real deal?”

“That you can see into the supernatural world.”

“Oh!” Aunt Lil said, squirming in a chair that just happened to be pulled out enough for her to pretend to squeeze into it. “Tell her about me!”

“Jason’s a pathological liar.”

A dimple appeared at one corner of her mouth. Amazing how something so small could shake me so hard. “I’ve heard that about him.” She wrapped both hands around the mug and took a sip of tea as though bracing herself for her next words. “You helped me,” she said after swallowing hard. “At the gas station, you helped me get that pump, even after I treated you so horrendously. Why?”

“I’m a member of the Knights in Shining Armor Club. It’s mandatory that we help one maiden in distress a day or we lose our parking privileges.”

She pursed her lips, trying to keep a wayward grin at bay. “You don’t say.”

“We also get a ten-percent discount at Cracker Barrel.”

This time, she laughed—a beautiful, lyrical sound that…

Holy fuck, I had to stop. This was getting ridiculous. I needed to get out of here before I dropped to one knee and proposed. I scanned the bar. Wasn’t there a redhead around here somewhere? Someone, anyone to take my mind off Halle Nordstrom.

“Do you really have experience with all that stuff?”

I refocused on her and absently lifted a shoulder. “There are few people on the planet with more.” Besides some of my closest friends, but that was a story for another day.

The heat from Aunt Lil’s glare almost seared the flesh off my face. “You’re not going to tell her about me, are you?”

“Jason says you can even see when people are going to die.”

I rolled my eyes. Did that asshole spill all my secrets?

“You’re ashamed of me, aren’t you?” Aunt Lil pouted, crossing her arms over her muumuu-clad chest.

“So, what?” Halle asked with a soft laugh to lighten her next question. “You’re like…the grim reaper?”

“No, but she’s a good friend of mine.”

Her mouth formed a hesitant grin. “You say the funniest things.”

“Well, I’m also a member of the National Association for the Fair and Ethical Treatment of Stand-up Comedians, so…”

I saw she wanted to laugh but couldn’t quite manage it. Her next question seemed to weigh too heavily on her mind. She stuck a chewed fingernail between her teeth and asked softly, “Can you see when I’m going to die?”

I shook my head. “Sorry.”

“And now you’re lying to her.” Aunt Lil tsked at me.

“It comes and goes,” I added, lying my ass off.

“Ah.” Relief softened the convex curve of Halle’s shoulders, a reaction I didn’t expect. But, of course, she would be relieved. She didn’t want me to throw a wrench into her final plans.

But again, none of this was my problem. I only helped those in immediate danger, and even then, it had to be a life-or-death situation. Something I couldn’t fuck up too badly. Halle may very well be haunted, though I still had my doubts, but I could hardly do anything about it either way. Her impending doom could be thwarted with good timing and a little luck, so my job here was done. Now, to leave. Get up and say my goodbyes. How hard could it be?

“Are you really going to ignore me all night, Constantine?”

Why did Aunt Lil love my middle name so much? I started to cast her a quick scowl to shush her—not that my threats ever worked—but changed my mind. Maybe she was my ticket out of this situation. My escape. Perhaps I didn’t have to leave after all and look like an asshole—not that I wasn’t. I just needed to scare Halle off so she did the leaving.

I pulled my mouth into a calculated smile, turned, and looked straight at Aunt Lil. “Did your niece send you to watch over me?”

Aunt Lil stared at me, her lids fluttering in confusion. “My niece?”

“You remember her. Charley Davidson? The saucy one with brown hair and a killer dropkick?”

She came to her senses and crossed her arms over her love beads. “So, we’re on speaking terms again?”

“What are you doing?” Halle asked, her expression wary.

“Oh.” I bounced back to her. “Sorry. Remember that supernatural realm I can see into? Well, my boss’s aunt, who died in the sixties from a hit of acid—”

“That was such a bad trip.”

“—was apparently sent to spy on me.” I turned my best accusing glare on her. “Isn’t that right, Aunt Lillian?”

The woman turned and raised a hand to summon a server, forgetting she couldn’t.

I leaned closer. “Good luck with that.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Halle asked.

“What? Not at all. My boss’s aunt is sitting right here.”

Halle raised her chin and curled her fingers around her book, readying to leave.

This had worked so much better than I’d thought it would. “So, you’re being haunted but don’t believe in ghosts?”

“You’re intimidating her, Constantine,” Aunt Lil chided.

“No, I do,” Halle said. “I also know when I’ve become the butt of a joke.” The pain that flickered across her face was almost my undoing. “Whatever my father is paying you—”

“That’s not what this is…” Her words sank in, and I glanced up in surprise. “He’s paying me?”

She smiled and said softly, “Not anymore.”

Jason didn’t mention anything about money. He probably planned to keep it for himself. The bastard.

“Besides,” Halle continued, her tone resigned, “some people deserve to be haunted.”

What did that mean? “What does that mean?” I asked her shapely backside as she strutted away, her powder blue sundress flowing like water down the backs of her legs.

Aunt Lil tsked me again, her disappointment evident in her glower. “That could’ve gone better.”

“Actually, it went exactly as planned.” But why did I feel like such a jerk? “Wait, did Charley really send you?”

She winced and looked around. “Where’s a barmaid when you need one?”

A barmaid. I scoffed until the word bar reminded me. I jumped to my feet and scanned the area. “Fuck. Where’d the kid go?”

“What kid?” Aunt Lil asked.

I spotted Jason and rushed over to him, almost taking out two of his customers in the process.

“How’d it go?” he asked, that shit-eating grin right where I’d left it.

“Where’s the kid?”

He was filling a beer glass from the tap. “What kid?”

“The one with the denim jacket.” I gestured toward the empty barstool then scanned the area again.

“Oh, he ordered a ride.” He set the glass in front of a scruffy biker wearing a pink bandana, shoved a hand into his pocket, and pulled out a set of keys, dangling them in front of me like a kid playing keep-away. “He won’t be driving anywhere today.”

I spun back to the table. The clean table that a group of college kids had already taken. The redhead was walking away with a tray full of napkins, empty bottles, and a coffee mug.

“Wait!” I hurried over to her, searched the tray for my napkin, and bolted back to Jason, cringing about the fact that I had to ignore the blinding smile the redhead flashed me.

Another time. Definitely another time.

I showed the napkin to Jason. “Where is this?”

He tilted his head and frowned. “I think the question you need to ask is what is this?”

I turned the napkin this way and that, trying to make out the drawing myself. “Damn it. I don’t know. I think it’s a bridge, maybe?”

He stepped closer. “How is that a bridge?”

“It looks like it could be one. See these pillar things?”

“Pillar things?” he asked, unimpressed.

Betty peeked around Jason’s shoulder. “That’s the Arkwright Building in Spokane.”

We turned to her in unison.

“Are you sure?” I asked, checking my watch. Forty-three minutes. How far was Spokane from here?

“Yeah, it’s gorgeous. Very historic. Those are the columns out front,” she said, pointing to the pillar things. “And this part here? That’s the balcony on the second floor above the entrance if you’re looking up. But I don’t think it’s a real balcony,” she said to Jason then gazed at me in admiration. “The perspective is spot on, though. Good job.”

If she only knew. Then again, with Jason spilling all my secrets to anyone within shouting distance, maybe she did know. “Thanks.” I took out my phone and entered the Arkwright Building into my maps app.

“What’s going on?” Jason asked.

“Remember how I told you I can tell the exact moment someone is going to die?”

Three people close by swiveled their heads to gawk at me. It happened.

“Zachary?” Jason asked, knowing the answer. The blood drained from his face.

Betty looked concerned, too. “It makes sense. His dad works maintenance there.”

I raked a hand through my hair. “So, he would have access to the roof.”

“Absolutely.”

I glanced at my watch again.

“How much time do we have?” Jason asked.

“We?”

He nodded and dug into his pocket for another set of keys. “I’ll drive.”

“You’ve been drinking,” Betty said, her expression soft but as hard as marble. There would be no arguments brooked on her watch.

“I can drive you.”

We all turned to see Halle standing there. She held up a twenty. “I forgot to pay so I came back.” Her gaze flitted to me then darted away just as quickly. “I haven’t had anything to drink. We can take my truck.”

It looked like I had little choice. “Will it get me there in forty-two minutes?”

The smug countenance that spread across her face almost doubled me over. She stole a line from one of my favorite movies and said, “Which floor?”