Page 203 of Evil Hearts
Chapter 3
M oving into a haunted house was never on my bingo card, but the offer is just too good to pass up and the house really does have so much potential. Plus, I have enough money left over to fix it up a bit, and I can simply help the wayward spirits cross over. And then I’ll deal with whatever else the house has planned for me.
Today marks my first official day in the house, so I’m expecting the activity to start rising by tomorrow… Stepping over the threshold of my new home, I’m less than delighted to find that the movers left everything crowded in the foyer. All the furniture is blocking my path, and I have to climb over it to get inside. I go to work right away, placing carpet cut outs under the four corners of my couch, easily sliding it into the main living room where I plan to hang my 75” TV. I would have loved Suzie’s help, but she’s busy moving in with her boyfriend.
It takes me several hours to get set up. For now, I’ve chosen a bed downstairs, rather than attempting to climb up and down with my heavy bed frame and other furniture. The seller hired a professional cleaning team, free of charge, and spruced the place up a bit. Which is nice, because all dust and cobwebs are gone, so I’m not worried about my belongings getting dirty. But it also feels like a red flag. It’s almost like they were telling me “Thank you for being an idiot and buying this place to take it off my hands.”
With it clean though, the house feels more inviting. The energy here is pretty strong, but I think it takes two days to shift from a dormant to an active state. Spirits either need to charge themselves by feeding off of the energy of the living to materialize, or they simply wait the grace period of two days to observe the intruder and gauge whether they are a threat or an opportunity. It all depends on if they are intelligent spirits or just your run-of-the-mill poltergeists.
I like to think of spirits like batteries who charge themselves on the living. With so much life in us, we’re walking battery banks. Most of the time, when I do my work, the spirits have cohabitated with the living for quite some time, but this house has sat vacant for years…
A thought occurs to me. People have been in and out of this house for a few days now. Any spirits should have had time to recharge by now–
A shadow moves in my peripheral vision, cutting my thoughts short, but confirming my suspicions. Panic rises momentarily, but I try to regulate my breathing and keep myself calm. Ghosts are like stars: always there, but never visible until the sun goes down. Usually, when they are seen, it’s only because they want to be seen… And half the time they are distorted anyway. My theory on that is it has something to do with the ambient energy, or it’s due to some kind of dimensional barrier.
Flicking the TV on, I take a seat on the couch and watch out of the corner of my eye as a shadow begins to alter its form. The second it passes through a beam of moonlight in front of a window, its form takes on a bluish grey hue, and it fully materializes. A very masculine figure appears, looking down at his hands and flexing his fingers as if he’s not seen himself in some time. He’s wearing jeans with a black t-shirt, and his hair is long, looking to be dark brown. He reaches out, running a hand along the curtains and making them move. Definitely an intelligent haunting. He doesn’t seem chaotic or violent—yet.
It’s rare that I find a ghost handsome, but this one is a special case. His intense gaze flicks to mine and I snap my eyes back to the TV, pretending I didn’t see him.
“Hello?” His voice is distorted, and echoes around me like a staticky radio tuning into a station. “Hello?” he tries again, but this time it’s much clearer. He definitely wants to be seen and heard. Suzie would be wetting herself. And now I have a decision to make. Do I make contact right away, or observe him myself for a few days to gauge his character.
My heart goes out to him though, and pretending I can’t see him would be cruel, especially if he’s desperate for some interaction. But I need to know who I’m dealing with. How do I test his character? Pretending to watch TV, a smirk plays on my lips as I think of the best course of action. Should I start by taking my shirt off, to see what he will do?
I let out a long, breathy sigh, fanning myself with my right hand as if I’m too warm. I place the remote down on the arm of the couch, reaching down to grip my shirt before sitting up and lifting the shirt over my head, exposing my black lace bra. The male apparition about-faces instantly, and I have to hold in a snort. Good, not a perv.
“Don’t look… Don’t look…” I hear him say, and it makes me grin. I’m getting ready to put my shirt back on, so as to stop torturing him and actually make contact, when another ghost pokes his head through the wall, staring straight at me. He’s handsome too, but I can’t help but notice the way his gaze rakes over me. Oddly, it stirs something in me, but I quickly tamp those thoughts down. Pervs. The both of us.
A third ghost, with broad shoulders, steps through the wall. He sees me and smacks the perv on the side of the head before shoving him back through. What the hell? Did a bunch of models die in this house? They’re all freaking ridiculously hot, and I’ve never seen any other ghosts interact with each other this way…
A snort leaves my throat and it catches the attention of the first and third ghosts. They both whirl around and I quickly return my attention to the TV. The one that smacked the pervy ghost strolls over to me, and it takes everything in me not to look directly at him, especially when he steps in front of me, blocking my view of the screen.
“You can see me, can’t you?” There’s an edge of desperation to his sultry, deep voice. His is the kind of voice that has always had a direct line to my core, playing it like a string on a guitar. His dark hair falls in his eyes as he leans towards me, and it’s almost impossible to look away. This man… this ghost, is inches from my face, but I can’t break character now. I don’t want to hurt him with graphite dust unless he proves to be malevolent.
Most humans can’t see ghosts the way I can. I see them in perfect detail. A blueprint of their former selves, with slight glitches in their structures. I assume the ability to maintain their presence consumes a lot of energy. So that’s why they’re occasionally glitching out like they have a faulty connection.
Though the longer these guys are near me, the more clear their forms become. I know my energy is different than most people’s, so they’re bound to know I’m not normal by now, if they can feel it. But there’s no way they can know that I can see them yet. It was explained to me that I have a bottomless well of energy, and that is what has helped me to guide spirits into crossing over.
Perv steps through the wall, jolting me out of my thoughts, and now all three ghosts have crowded me. I try to keep up the facade of staring at the TV as though I can see it, and have to stop myself from leaning to look at the screen because that would defeat the purpose.
Feigning a yawn, I stretch and click the TV off, tossing the remote onto the couch before standing, walking straight through the men as I move to leave the room. Their forms are viscous, and it almost feels like walking through jello. It’s so different from the usual feeling of a simple cold spot, where it takes no effort at all to pass through them. A mixture of cold and warmth spread through me, icy-hot in my veins. That’s new. These aren’t normal ghosts…
The men shudder and practically light up like Christmas trees, their forms technicolor and their skin more of a golden hue. Looking at them, the only dead giveaway that they are ghosts is the blue halo that remains around their bodies. I’ve walked through plenty of ghosts, and have never had or caused such a reaction.
I pick up my shirt and turn my head again, quickly stretching before continuing to make my way to the bedroom. My mind is spiraling with this new experience and I don’t know what to make of it. I can sense they are following me, and my stride quickens.
Stepping into my new bedroom, I shut the door behind me and walk towards the bed. Now what? I can feel them behind me, but what do I do now? The only thing I can think of is taking a shower, but that would mean letting them see me. I’m not usually modest, especially when it comes to ghosts, but this is also a new situation, having to pretend I don’t see them while living with them.
I toss my bra onto the bed, and slowly start to strip out of the rest of my clothes. This is going to be awkward when I have to reveal that I can see them…
Even when I’m completely naked, I can still feel eyes on me. And when I turn in the direction of my dresser, I freeze as I’m met with all three men staring directly at me. Shock and embarrassment filter through me, but I quickly shake it off, trying not to let it show on my face.
Crossing the room, I select a set of nightclothes. Nothing too revealing, I’m going more for comfort. I then make my way to the bathroom, trying my damndest to keep a straight face. Stepping into the shower, I’m met again with all three ghosts, and I almost break character because they made it there before me. Twisting the knobs, I adjust the temperature so that steam begins to build, and I step under the spray of warm water.
The fact that I have three super hot men, ghosts or not, watching me, ticks almost every voyeurism fantasy I’ve had locked away in the deepest part of my mind. Ghosts don’t have diseases and they can’t get you pregnant. I’ve fantasised about getting pleasured by a ghost, sometimes two at the same time, but I knew it was never possible.
My intimacy issues stem from abusive relationships, and the fact that death is all around me. I couldn’t bear to fall in love with someone, only to have them ripped away from me. Losing both my parents in a car accident did that to me. I’m not afraid of the things that go bump in the night. I’m afraid of love .
Wanting to drive home the false fact that I can’t see them, I turn and lean against the wall, closing my eyes. Feeling brazen, I let my hands glide over my slick body before my left hand stops to tease at my breasts, while my dominant hand travels to my core. My fingers slip through my folds to circle, probe, and tease my sensitive button, making a soft moan escape my lips. I can feel their gazes burning into me, and it only ignites my desires further. Another moan leaves my parted mouth when the air changes with an energy that makes my skin tingle. Like there’s a bite of ice in the air.
An icy-hot palm lands on my shoulder, cutting my train of thought abruptly. It makes me jump and forces my eyes to snap open. I’m met with all three ghosts, once again crowding my space. The third ghost is looking down at his hand like he’s in shock too. It takes me a second to realise that the water is actually bouncing off of them. And that there’s hunger in each of their eyes.
It’s just not possible…
“What is this feeling?” the third ghost says.
I slide away along the wall, logic not making sense is making me spiral. His voice is crystal clear, no distortion at all. His gaze snaps back to mine and there’s no denying that I can see them now. He knows it. They all know it. The fact that they can touch me, has my core clenching, and yet embarrassment and mortification floods my system, heating my face. They are not ordinary ghosts…
“Could she be?” asks the Perv.
“Mate?” The first ghost whispers, but it’s loud enough to resonate with me. The word alone feels like a claim. Like a stake on my soul. And maybe I initiated the invitation—wait, mate?