Oracle of Spirits 1(3)

I snorted and turned away from him. "Welcome to the story of my life."

"Pardon?" he asked.

I shook my head and waved my hand in front of me. "It's nothing. Anyway, thanks for the offer, but-" He held up his hand.

"I've heard all the usual reasons for brushing me off," he interrupted me. "And I'm going to tell you I get calls back from ninety-five percent of people telling me to come over after they've had another paranormal experience. Do you really want to go through that, or can we cut it out and let me get my job done?"

"Only ninety-five?" I mused.

He grinned and shrugged. "Nobody's perfect."

I sighed and looked him over. He didn't have the appearance of a psychopath, or at least the usual tell-tale signs I got from the patients. There was consistent eye contact, a clean appearance, no fidgeting, and no aura around him like he had a god complex. An ego, but no complex.

I crossed my arms over my chest and shrugged. "All right, I'll let you come home with me, but you do anything funny and the cops will need a real detective to find your body."

"Then let's go," he suggested. He walked past me and towards the doors.

I reached out my hand. "Wait a sec. I still need to fill out my report."

He paused at the doors and turned to me with a strange half-smile. "Believe me, you don't want to waste time filling anything out here, and if we hurry I can have your ghost exorcised before the night is out or your money back."

He didn't wait for me to reply but walked through the doors.

"Hey! Wait a minute!" I yelled as I raced after him.

I caught up to him on the sidewalk just outside the police station. He walked fast and his overcoat billowed behind him. It made it hard not to get whacked by the thing.

"You never said anything about payment," I reminded him.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, I won't charge you anything for my services."

I frowned at him. "Then what's in it for you?"

The smile slid off his lips and his cigarette hung low. "Let's just say I have a score to settle with someone, and each destroyed poltergeist and spirit put to rest is a win for me."

"So it's personal?" I guessed.

"Very," he assured me. He stopped in front of a red convertible with the top down and hopped over the door and into the driver's seat. "Get in," he told me.

I looked over the car. "You sure this job isn't going to cost me an arm and a leg?"

He smiled and the end of the cigarette that dangled from his lips glowed red in the dim light. "Positive, now get in."

I slid into the passenger seat and he pulled out. We sped through the heavy traffic of the Friday night, and I clung to my door handle as we zipped through and between cars.

"Mind slowing down? I'd like to live to see another day," I called to him.

He ignored my question, but slowed from break-neck speed to break-arm. "So I'm guessing this is your first haunting?" he asked me without looking at me.

"Yeah, I'm practically a virgin," I quipped.

A grin slid onto his lips and his eyes flickered to me. "I could do something about that."

I felt my cheeks redden and I glared at him. "This is a business deal, Mr. Osman, and my occupation isn't prostitute."

He looked away from me, but the smile didn't fade. "What is your occupation, Miss Runa?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and glanced at my side of the street. "I'm a secretary for a mental health clinic."

"The pay any good?" he wondered.

"It keeps me fed," I replied.

"Well fed, by the looks," he commented.

I whipped my head to him and ground my teeth together. "I'm not fat! I'm just big-boned!"

He held up his hands and the car steered on its own. "No complaints here. I happen to like shapely women."

I sank into my chair and glared at the windshield. I was inwardly flattered, and outwardly disgusted. "Let's just get home."

"As you wish."

He drove me to my townhouse and we parked out front. Fred sat on his stoop in an old broken lawn chair. He jumped to his feet and moved over to the railing closest to us.

"Who's that guy?" Fred snapped at me as he jerked his head towards the detective.

"A-"

"An old friend," Osman spoke up.

I gave him a glare and unlocked the door to my house.

Fred's eyes swept over Osman and his look got uglier. He showed off what was left of his yellow teeth with a sneer. "Never seen you before."

"I don't get out much," the detective replied.

Fred glared at him and turned to me. "So what's going on around here? I thought I heard a TV blaring and saw the cops come."

"I accidentally turned my TV up too high and got called on by someone," I lied. "They took me to the station for a statement."

Fred's eyes flickered to Osman. "Are you a cop?"

Osman smiled and shook his head. "I don't have that pleasure."

Fred snorted. "Ain't no pleasure around here. It's liable to get you shot at, if you know what I mean."

"Perfectly," Osman assured him.

I noticed the detective's indifferent attitude irked my creep of a neighbor. Fred wasn't my favorite human, but I didn't want him to hate me. It would make him that much more difficult to deal with. I pushed open the door and wrapped my arm around one that belonged to the detective.

"Well, it's always nice talking to you, Fred, but we really need to get inside and-um, reminisce about old times," I told him.

Fred leaned on the railing and pursed his lips. "If you've been at the station then who was turning the TV up all those times for the last half hour?" he asked us.

I froze and felt my blood run cold, but I managed an unconvincing chuckle. "Guess I'll have to scold my dog for watching TV while I'm out. Anyway, we'll see you later."

I shoved the detective inside and shut the door hard behind us. I leaned against the door and shuddered. The detective turned to me and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm guessing you don't have a dog who likes to watch TV," he commented.

I shook my head. "Not even a cat," I assured him.

"I see."

The detective strode forward and swept the room with his eyes. I noticed his eyes had a strange tint to them, almost like they reflected light really well. His teasing demeanor was dropped for a serious look. He wandered through the dining room and into the kitchen to the hanging grocery bags, and back to the burst eggs where he paused.

"And you're sure you've never experienced anything like this before?" he asked me.

I snorted. "I think I'd-" A memory hit my brain like a punch to the chin.

The alley. That cold feeling.

The detective looked up at me and frowned. "What is it?" he questioned me.

I bit my lip. "I. . .well, I might have felt something tonight when I was walking home from the grocery store."

"What did you feel?" he persisted.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Some sort of a chill, I guess. Kind of like-"

"Someone walked over your grave?" he guessed.

I blinked at him, but gave a nod. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

He turned away and walked through the kitchen to the living room. "So you suspect that the spirit followed you?" he asked me.

I followed him and shrugged. "How should I know? But if it did I don't want to keep it." The detective stepped between the TV and the couch, and he turned to TV.

My eyes widened as I was struck with the realization that he was replaying what had happened earlier step for step. The pause at the grocery bags, my going up to the eggs, then into the living room where the TV clicked on. He was playing me. That is, he was following my steps exactly.

I stepped into the living room, but made sure I had easy access to the front door through either the kitchen or the hall.

"How are you replaying my steps?" I questioned him. "I didn't fill out a police report, and I didn't give the cops this much info."

He faced the TV and his tense face reflected in the dark glass. "Let's just say I have a keen smell for these things," he admitted.

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. "Let's not, and say I'd like to know who the hell you really are. Are you in on this? Is this some sort of joke by Fred or-"

I jumped when there came a heavy thud from directly above us. The detective rushed up to me and pulled me behind him. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the stairs.

"Do you have a roommate?" he asked me.

My heart thumped loudly as I shook my head. "No."

"Then stay here. I'll go see what that was," he told me.

"Like hell I am," I retorted.

"All right, but stay behind me," he ordered me.





CHAPTER 4





He led the way up the stairs to the hallway on the second floor. The doors to the two rooms lay on our left. The closest to the stairs was the large bedroom, and the second one was the small bathroom. The noise had come from the bedroom, and he moved over to that door. I remained attached to his back and was right behind him when he grabbed the knob. He reached into his coat with his other hand and looked over his shoulder at me.

"Move back down the hall," he ordered me. "And get ready."

"For what?" I whispered.

"We'll see," he replied.

I pursed my lips, but stepped down the hall closer to the bathroom. My heart thumped so loud in its chest I wondered how it didn't alert the intruder to our presence.