Page 9 of Possessed By Shadows
“You don’t want to see the video?” Lukas asked.
“Right this second I need the hospital stink off of me.” I retrieved a handful of clothes from the built-in wall dressers, underwear, a pair of pajamas, and warm socks. Comfort clothes.
“I’ll make you a sandwich,” Micah said.
“Food is always good,” I agreed. Too bad it was too late in the day for coffee.
“Is the ghost cat there?” Lukas asked, pointing at the futon, which was empty. Jet sat on the kitchen table near Micah, seeking attention.
“No,” I glanced around the room, not seeing Precious anywhere. She sort of came and went as she pleased, much to Jet’s dismay.
“Good,” my brother huffed and sat down on the couch. “I’ll wait until you’re done then.”
I wished he’d go home and let me calm my racing heart with Micah’s presence, but I suppose that was too much to ask. In the bathroom, I only mostly closed the door, leaving it open a crack and turning the fan on for the humidity. By the time I’d gotten the water running, stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the spray, the scent of home began to sink in.
Micah’s choices in products, from the basic kitchen soap we used, to hair gel, body soap, and even lube, was all from brands he researched and trusted. And they all smelled fantastic. It didn’t matter that the scents varied. The general philosophy about scents in hygiene was that they either weren’t needed, or that they attracted different people in a sort of pheromone way. The entire line of his product choices was very mild in smell. Lavender or vanilla or even something spicy with sage or bergamot, they wrapped around me in a combo that allowed me to drag air into my lungs and release the tension in my shoulders.
I let the water trail over my hair. Who knew how long since it had actually been washed? The amount of product I used to tame the wild curl, meant I used dry shampoo more often than anything with suds. But it felt good to have the hot water streaming over my back. I stood there a while, eyes closed, sucking in the scent of home, and letting my muscles begin to relax. Maybe they’d let me sleep. I’d rather nap with Micah than watch some scary video.
I opened my eyes to find Precious, the fluffy, white, Persian, ghost cat, sitting on the closed toilet lid like a loaf of bread, tail flicking, staring at me. Normally her eyes were blue, that sort of clear, glass blue that came more in animals than people, though they could be orange, with that unusual cat glow thing, but at the moment they were black. I sighed, and put my back to her, then turned off the shower and grabbed a towel.
The door to the bathroom slid open, and Micah stepped in. He spared a glance for Precious, who vanished a second later, then at me. “You okay?” he asked.
“I don’t know?” I answered honestly as I finished drying off and tugged on some clothes. “Maybe my brother is on to something?”
“You mean drugs or an idea?”
“Idea. What if we can find some sort of ward to stop stuff from taking me over?”
“We don’t know that’s really what’s happening.”
Was it weird that Ifeltlike that was what was happening? Like I was some puppet for the supernatural to pull the strings? I hated the thought, but that’s how I felt. Especially after an episode like this. Maybe that was an indicator that I had a deeper mental illness, that letting them drug me into oblivion no matter how sick it made me, was the best thing for everyone. “Maybe I am sick.”
“We’ve talked about this,” Micah said as he stepped into my space and wrapped his arms around me. I unbraided my hair and slid my fingers through it. At least it wasn’t a tangled mess. Though if I left it unbound it’d be an afro by morning. “Come eat,” Micah said. His hands rested on my hips, expression calm, looking up at me with that gaze that meant he was into me. I was into him too. Incredibly into him.
I let out a long breath and pulled him into a hug. He nestled his face in the curve of my neck and shoulder. We fit so well together. “Sorry I’m so messed up,” I whispered.
“It’s why we work,” Micah laughed lightly. “Both a little nuts.”
“Maybe I should try the new meds?”
“Or we could keep you from haunted stuff. That was working fine,” Micah pointed out.
“But your tours…”
“We don’t often get close to anything spooky,” he reminded me. And they didn’t. When we did them regularly, he always walked the route ahead of time, avoiding areas that had the worst sensations. I had learned over the past few months that that also sometimes meant recent crime. We’d avoided the French Market for almost a month after there had been a murder one night. Other than the yellow police tape, and a vague story about it in the local news, we hadn’t seen much. But Micah often walked the route alone during the day. It was time he took to clear his mind, and I didn’t try to invade on that. He always made fast and easy adjustments to the route, having a dozen ways and a hundred new stories to tell with each adventure.
“Except for my brother,” I grumbled.
Micah sighed. “Come eat. We’ll watch the video and get him to leave.”
“It will be that easy?” I groused, knowing it wouldn’t be. “Where is Sky?”
“She can’t fight your battles for you.”
In the kitchen a plate sat with a warmed, triple folded quesadilla-style sandwich, one of my favorites, with turkey, bacon, pickles, and Swiss cheese. There was also two bananas and a piping hot cup of tea. I picked up the plate, and the cup and made my way to the futon. Lukas had Jet in his lap now, petting the black cat, and scrolling through his phone.
I took the spot in the middle and Micah sat on the other side of me, keeping Lukas at a distance, but offering to hold my tea. “Show me this video,” I demanded of my brother. “So I can eat, you can go home, and I can sex up my boyfriend to get rid of the memories of whatever you’re about to show me.”