"Somewhere far away from here," I said, eyeing my house. It looked menacing, ominous, and not at all like the house I grew up in. "And somewhere with booze. A lot of it. This little lady needs a f.u.c.king drink."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Maximus ended up taking me to a quaint little wine bar that overlooked the river at the end of Waterfront Park. In the summer, the patio area would be packed with tourists and locals snapping up the breezes off the water, but in the winter it was small and cozy. If I were in the right frame of mind, I might have even called it romantic, especially with the lights as they twinkled off the black, waving currents outside and contrasted against the soft glow inside.

I wasn't in my right frame of mind, though, and Maximus knew it. As he drove us here, he kept the conversation safe as a disoriented Tom Waits crooned from his stereo, mimicking how I felt. I tried to keep my mind somewhere else. But once we settled down in our tiny, windowside table, his large frame looking almost comical in the narrow spot, and ordered our first drinks, he started giving me the expectant eye.

The waiter placed a shot of tequila down in front of me and I raised it in the air at Maximus.

"To...," I trailed off, unable to think of a single thing worth toasting to.

"To us," he finished, raising his Corona. I raised my brow. His green eyes twinkled in the candlelight.

"Well, it's better than nothing," I said with a smirk and we clinked gla.s.ses. I tried to hold his eyes as I did the shot but it burned hard in my throat and I coughed.

"Easy there, it's not a race," he chided, picking up my lime and pa.s.sing it to me.

I shoved it in my mouth until the bitterness took the wincing away. I smiled at him, all lime mouth, and sat back in my chair feeling more relaxed than I had in weeks.

"That's a nice look for you," he said with a wink. I took the lime out and placed it in the empty shot gla.s.s.

"You're looking very pretty tonight," he continued after clearing his throat. "I don't know why I never pictured you wearing a dress before."

"Because I don't wear dresses, unless it's a special occasion."

It was his turn to raise his brow. "Is this a special occasion?"

I shrugged as the waiter came by again and poured me a gla.s.s of riesling.

"No. Maybe. Some part of me thought it was a great idea to wear it."

"Well I'm glad that part of you did."

"I just wish I knew what part." I gave him a steady look.

I took a large sip of my wine and immediately felt the smooth, golden liquid go straight to my head where the tequila was already sitting. I don't even think I ate anything for dinner. Things like food were slipping my mind lately.

"So what happened tonight that made you call me? I'd like to pretend you just wanted my company, but it sounded as if anybody would have done the job."

My lips twitched slightly as I observed him. He looked a bit put upon, like there was a chance I could hurt him if I told him that actually anyone would have done the job and I just wanted to get out of the house, to be with people. But I wasn't sure how true that was.

"I think I'm being hunted," I said, leaning in closer to him, keeping my voice low. "Or haunted. Or I'm going crazy. One of those three. Or all of them."

He leaned forward too, and his forehead nearly b.u.mped against mine. He grabbed my hands with his large, weatherbeaten ones and squeezed them. It was a comforting gesture.

"Tell me everything," he whispered. His drawl was incredibly s.e.xy when he whispered like that. I didn't like how I was noticing him in that way. Not tonight.

I dropped my eyes to the table and begun the long, crazy tale of the last few weeks. I left out the miscarriage part because it was none of his business. I just told him I had severe "woman problems" and I'm not sure if he deduced anything out of that. I concluded the story with the last straw, the baby slippers in my room.

While I was talking Maximus kept quiet; his eyes were squinty emeralds in the low light. I met them occasionally, afraid to see signs of doubt in them. To his credit, he only seemed engrossed by my story and then extremely concerned. He finished the rest of his beer and placed it on the table so that the bottle spun around like a top.

"I wish I wasn't the designated driver tonight, darling," he said finally, "because after hearing that story, I reckon I want another drink. And I know you do too."

The idea of throwing caution to the wind and convincing Maximus to get loaded with me was suddenly very tempting. But I had a mystery to solve.

"Well, what do you think?" I asked cautiously.

He gave my hands a quick squeeze again and leaned back in his chair.

"I'm going to speak my mind here, Perry," he said. My heart thudded around a little. He thought I was crazy. He thought I was nutso. He thought I was losing my mind.

"I do think you are being haunted," was his matter-of-fact answer. "And I'd love to come over, spend some time in your house, and do a reading. Get to the bottom of this."

Oh.

"Are you serious? You believe me?"

"Of course I do. Not every haunting is a clear-cut case. There's no guide for ghosts to follow. If you're being haunted by something, it could mess up a lot of things in your life."

"But it doesn't explain everything..."

He stroked his chin for a few moments and observed new people entering the bar, the cold blast from outside following them in. "No, it doesn't. I reckon your problem is you're combining all these events that have happened to you and expect them to all be connected. But I don't think that's the case here."

I waved my hand for the waiter and caught his eye. Screw it, Nancy Drew must have let her hair down once in a while.

"So what says 'ghost' to you?" I asked, my attention back on the burly redhead.

"Obviously the slippers. The doorbell. The knocks. The yelling, the TV, those are all things that poltergeists do."

"Last time you thought there was a poltergeist, it turned out to be skinwalkers," I pointed out.

He smiled, a tad embarra.s.sed. "I'm not saying it can't be anything else..."

"What about my nail polish?" I say, wiggling my right hand at him.

"It's very pretty."

"I mean, how did this get on my nails? And for that matter, who hid the syrup on me?"

He gave me a sharp look as the waiter approached the table. I composed myself and smiled up at him.

"What will you be having?" the waiter asked. "Another of the Quails Gate?"

I nodded and Maximus caved and ordered another beer.

His eyes followed the waiter until he was gone, then he leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. I noticed his steel grey shirt was made out of fine silk, like fancy cowboy wear.

"What happened to you in Seattle?"

I flinched, surprised at the question. "What do you mean?"

"I don't mean with Dex, I don't care to hear about that."

I could have sworn a dark shadow pa.s.sed over his freckled face as he mentioned his name. The same look probably appeared on my face as well, and often.

He continued, "What ghosts did you encounter?"

"Oh. Well I don't care to particularly think about that. You saw the footage that aired, right?"

He nodded. "And that was it? Was there anything else in that asylum?"

I thought about Creepy Clown Lady's message on the EVP. Then I thought about Creepy Clown Lady in the hospital.

"You know how I was telling you about that woman I saw?"

"Circus freak?"

I bit my lip to keep from smiling. "Yeah. She left a message for Dex. Well, us, really. On the EVP. And only I had heard it. Dex might have now, but I heard it first and told him not to listen and then everything, well, you know...she really does seem to want to warn me about something."

He leaned closer still. I caught a whiff of his spicy cinnamon smell. I breathed it in and automatically found myself closing my eyes for a second.

"What did the message say?"

"I can't really remember," I said, somewhat truthfully. "She told me to ask my parents who Declan O'Shea was...do you know?"

"Not unless Dex had a different last name. He hasn't for as long as I've known him."

I nodded, not really expecting to have gotten an answer. I took in a deep breath before I blurted out the more painful stuff.

"She knew I had done some things to Dex."

He eyed me suspiciously. "What things?"

"Don't judge me, but...I switched his medication. I mean, I found out what he was taking and then I replaced half his pills with placebos."

"Jesus," Maximus swore, his eyes going wide as saucers. He let out a low whistle. "Perry, I'm not sure what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," I said quickly, feeling cold sweat nip at the center of my palms. "I know what I did was wrong. I just had to know. I had to know what was wrong with him."

"Did you find out?"

"I think he's as sane as I am. I don't think there's anything that medication can fix."

"I don't know about that," he began.

"I do," I said firmly. "And I don't mean to talk about him. I don't want to talk about him. There was something else. Pippa, circus freak, said that she's being watched. By the soulless ones who keep her there...the...demons."

"Demons?" Maximus repeated. He sounded rather disbelieving and I didn't want to have to convince him by bringing up some of the freaky s.h.i.t I dealt with in the past. Freaky s.h.i.t like Jacob.

"Yes, that's what she said," I reiterated. "Then she said, I'm in real danger, especially if he thinks I'm fine. When I'm safe, the damage will be done. That she'd come after me..."

"She? Who? Pippa?"

I looked down, my head twitching no. I placed my hand on the crook of his elbow, needing something solid to hold onto.

"No. Not Pippa. Pippa was warning Dex. About Abby."

Because my hand was on him, I could feel all the muscles in his arm tense up at the mention of her name. I looked up at him slyly, and grinned. I felt a wave of hate dripping off of myself, as if it clung wetly to my teeth.

"You remember me, don't you Redboy?"

A look of utter terror filled his face. "W-what?"

"I said, you remember Abby, don't you?" I gripped his arm for a second and then let go. The strange rush of anger I felt seconds earlier was released. "You told me about her yourself, in New Mexico."

"That's not what you just said," he stammered and pulled away like he was suddenly scared of me. "You just called me Redboy."

I had no idea what he was talking about. "Maybe crazy is contagious."

He seemed to think about that.

"Maybe," he finally said, his voice low and wispy. A line of fear never left his face. "Maybe."

"Well, we saw Abby all over the d.a.m.n place."

"We?"

"Dex and I. We both saw her. In the asylum, on the street, in the apartment." I couldn't help but shudder at the vision of her walking across his apartment, dripping blood onto the floor, the thick splats. The wasps. The smell of gin.

"I think she might be f.u.c.king with me," I said slowly. It was like dawn was bursting through the windows and illuminating a very simple problem. "Abby. I think she's haunting me."

Maximus nodded but I could tell he wasn't too impressed with my deduction skills. Of freaking course Abby was haunting me. That's what Pippa warned would happen. That's why I saw Abby in my dreams, in the hospital. That's who was knocking on the doors and leaving baby slippers everywhere.

Talking about her was making me feel extremely edgy, like she was perched somewhere on my shoulder, waiting to slip inside through my ears.

"Can ghosts...," I started, then looked around me. The crowd was loud and the sound of clinking gla.s.ses reverberated around the room, but I was still incredibly conscious of what we were talking about. "Can ghosts f.u.c.k with you like that? Like, get inside your head? Can they...take over?"

"You mean like possession?" he asked, and at the word, my blood ran cold. I brought my cardigan around me.

I urged him to continue by gesturing with my fingers.

"It depends on the culture," he explained. "In some societies, shamans can possess someone. In others, like in Wicca, they can be possessed by the G.o.ddess, willingly. In Catholic society, some believe you can be possessed by the Devil."