Page 7 of Private Exhibit (Gentleman Hackers #4)

ANDY BARELY managed to make it behind his desk in time. He sank into his chair like his legs had been cut out from under him.

Oh my gods . What were the chances? To finally make an intense connection with another human being for the first time in two decades, only to find out that person had the very disease that had haunted his entire adult life?

Andy stared up at the ceiling, uselessly wishing he could see all the way into the Void and glimpse the gods themselves. Why? he begged them. Why did this have to happen? Why him? Why now?

Would he never escape his utter failure?

Dad?

Andy nearly jumped right out of his chair. Gods, kid. You keep scaring me like that…

Sorry , Junior said with a grimace. I figured you were expecting me. You were thinking about me hard just now.

Andy winced. Shit . That was something he still hadn't gotten used to, even after four years.

Ghosts could be called , in a sense, by nothing more than a simple thought.

Andy had no idea how it worked, just that it did.

If he ever needed to speak to Junior, all he had to do was think about him, and the boy would simply appear. Sorry.

What's wrong?

Nothing , Andy lied.

Junior rolled his eyes. I call bullshit.

Language , Andy bit off, then sighed and admitted, I just met someone new with A-G.

Junior's eyes went wide. In an interview?

Yeah.

Junior was silent for a moment. How old is he?

Andy shook his head. I don't know. Early twenties, maybe?

Whoa.

Yeah , Andy agreed. Whoa was right. Hells, it was an understatement.

More than anybody else in the world, Andy knew the devastating odds.

For those born with Ashworth-Grahams, ninety-one percent didn't live to see their first birthday.

Of the ones who remained, most didn't survive more than another couple years.

The record for longest life with the disease was twenty-seven years, five months, and two days.

If this boy—Devon—was in his early twenties, he was damned lucky.

But he was also living on borrowed time.

Something else Andy knew all too well.

He eyed what was left of his son. Anderson Gerard Jr. looked just like he had in life, except now there was a slightly translucent quality to his form.

And that form never altered one bit. Whereas Andy had watched the subtle changes that came along with growing up—noting from one week to the next how Junior had grown a little bit taller or had started to develop another chin hair—now his son would look exactly the same for all eternity.

The really unsettling part was that Junior had always been the spitting image of Andy himself. They'd even broken out old photographs of Andy and compared them, side-by-side, with pictures of Junior. Sometimes, it was hard to tell which was which.

And both their lives had stopped at right around the same age.

Andy shuddered, hoping he'd kept that particular thought to himself. He tried to come up with something to say when Junior suddenly whirled around, peeking into the morgue.

I hear someone crying , Junior pointed out.

Andy listened, realizing he'd heard it, too. He shook off his dismal thoughts and got up to follow Junior into the morgue, the chilly, pristine space making even the tiniest sounds seem to endlessly echo.

Except this particular sound wasn't truly audible.

Andy stepped around one of the autopsy tables, where a new body had just been left, covered by a sheet, and found a ghost sitting with her back to the table, her knees drawn up, her arms covering her head.

Hello , Andy murmured.

The ghost gasped and jerked back, falling right through the table's base. She shrieked and scrambled away, stopping in the middle of the room and looking around frantically. Oh gods , she said, her eyes wide and wild as she stared at the table in horror. I really am dead .

Andy slowly approached, then lowered himself to a crouch. I'm Doctor Anderson Gerard. You can call me Andy. What's your name?

The girl sniffed and wiped her eyes, but there were no tears there. She let out a pitiful, helpless whine as she stared at her dry hands, then slowly answered, Jess.

It's nice to meet you, Jess. Andy glanced over and saw his son still there, so he added, This is my son, also Andy. We call him Junior.

Hi , Junior squeaked, giving the girl a shy wave.

Jess looked up at Junior and her lips slowly parted. Oh gods. Are you–

Yeah , Junior said, coming closer. I'm dead, too.

Jess trembled and ran her hands back through her hair. I can't be dead. I can't! I was just about to graduate. Had a great job lined up. I was only getting started. Why? Why now?

Andy reached out, meaning to give the girl's shoulder a squeeze, but his hand passed right through her.

Shit . She was a new ghost, which meant she hadn't even begun to learn how to replicate something like a solid form.

Some ghosts couldn't even make themselves visible this early on.

Tangibility was a skill that could take days or even years to develop.

Andy winced and muttered an apology. I'm very sorry.

It's not fair! the girl wailed.

It never is , Andy replied gently, but the girl was right. She was young. Far too young for life to be over. Probably around Devon's age.

Andy winced and inwardly cursed. He had to stop thinking about that boy!

He sat with Jess for an hour, trying to console the girl. The poor thing kept eyeing the autopsy table, her lifeless body hidden by the sheet but still so blatantly there. Andy tried to coax her out of the room, but every time Jess tried to stand, she sank right back onto the floor.

Can you tell me what happened? Andy asked.

Jess blinked rapidly, then frowned. I'm not really sure. I was out for a jog, trying to burn off some stress, and then…nothing. I don't remember anything else. Until I woke up like this. She looked down at her hands, slowly turning them over, and shuddered.

The autopsy will tell us more , Andy assured her.

The girl's eyes went wide again. You're gonna cut me open?

Yeah , Andy admitted. You might not want to be here for that part. But it is standard procedure. Our scanners are excellent, but there are some things even they can't see.

Like exactly what Ashworth-Grahams did to the nervous system. Andy had to shove that bitter thought aside, knowing he needed to focus.

Jess shivered and drew her knees up, hugging them to her chest. This can't be real , she whispered, shaking her head. Then she gasped. Oh my gods. My mom! She's gonna get the news–

The ghost vanished.

Where'd she go? Junior asked, looking all around.

Andy grimaced. She probably jumped right to wherever her mother is just from thinking about it , Andy pointed out. Tied to her energy .

Oh . Junior got a knowing wince on his face. Right .

Andy nodded. That in itself was going to startle the girl, vanishing from one place and appearing in another.

It was something all ghosts could do automatically, but it was also another skill they had to practice.

The first few times could be frightening until they learned to control it.

Andy remembered all too well how scared Junior had been, jumping from Andy's side to his mother's and back, feeling out of control, not realizing what was going on.

After four years of practice, Junior had no trouble anymore.

But for a new ghost like Jess, it was going to take some getting used to.

Jess suddenly reappeared, stumbling and holding out her arms as though she needed balance. She frantically looked around, then spotted Andy. She can't see me. She can't see me! What am I gonna do? I can't tell her I'm still here. She's gonna be devastated!

Andy sighed as Jess collapsed into a sobbing mess once again. He strode over and tried to embrace the girl, then remembered she hadn't learned tangibility yet, so he still passed right through her. Andy muttered a curse, then glanced at Junior. He gestured the boy over.

Junior approached shyly. Was there even a blush on his cheeks? Interesting . Andy didn't know ghosts could blush. But he watched as the boy carefully touched the girl on the shoulder.

Jess wrapped herself around Junior and hid her face against his neck as she cried.

Andy gave his son a nod. Good lad . The ghosts were made of the same thing, whatever it was, so they could interact in a way that a ghost and a living person could not. Not yet, anyway.

What am I gonna do? Jess wailed.

We'll figure something out , Andy promised, though he wasn't entirely sure. Some people, despite being presented with evidence of ghosts, refused to believe in them. Jess's mother might never accept that Jess was still there if she couldn't see her directly.

Andy looked at his son. Gods . He couldn't imagine not being able to interact with the boy.

Unlike him, his ex-wife, Lydia, was pure-blooded Agori, so she had zero contact with the telepathic plane.

She could feel Junior if the boy touched her but could neither see nor hear him, so she didn't believe he was really there.

Still having Junior around was the only thing that kept Andy getting out of bed every day. He thought of Devon again, of how the boy said he'd had that ability taken away from him. Andy shuddered. If he lost the ability to see Junior, he'd kill himself without hesitation just to get his son back.

A sob tore through the silence.

Andy winced, glancing at the new ghost. He let out a sigh.

Or would I? No matter how much he was tempted, he wasn't sure he could actually kill himself.

This was too important. These ghosts needed him.

They didn't have anybody else. Still, losing Junior might push him to do it.

Short of that, though, nothing and nobody could ever make him leave this job.

He'd failed the living, so this room of death was where he belonged.

When Jess finally calmed down a little, Junior took her outside to sit in one of the hospital's terrace gardens.

Having the morgue to himself, Andy got on with the girl's autopsy, taking advantage of the ghost's absence.

The process took him right up until his shift ended, and neither Junior nor Jess had returned.

Andy went home, took a long shower, ate some leftover pizza, and collapsed into bed. He slept fitfully, plagued by dreams of the boy with the exquisitely intense gaze.

When he woke the next morning, Andy was determined to put Devon out of his mind for good, no matter what it took.

He got to work and checked the morgue first. No new bodies had come in overnight, so he had nothing but paperwork to look forward to. Great . He let out a sigh and stepped into his office.

Mr. Bokin was there again, sitting behind his desk. “You're late,” the man pointed out.

“If you're here with another proposition,” Andy said as he headed straight for the coffee machine, “I'm not in the mood.”

“Good.” Mr. Bokin stood and buttoned his jacket. “Because I'm here with an order.”

Andy turned around and cocked an eyebrow.

“I've hired your assistant,” Mr. Bokin announced.

Andy scowled. “When?”

“Yesterday afternoon. I personally called each of the people you interviewed yesterday morning.

All but one of them declined the job. The rest all said to thank you for the opportunity but they couldn't work for someone like you.” The man chuckled.

“I'm guessing you were your usual gruff self, huh?”

Andy ignored that as his chest tightened. Oh gods. Not him. Please, not him. “All but one?”

Mr. Bokin nodded. “Devon Campbell. He starts tomorrow.”

Andy locked his knees. “Harel–”

The man held up a hand. “It's a done deal. You're getting an assistant and that's final.”

But not him , Andy thought. Gods, not him!

“I'll quit,” Andy blurted out, then cursed and shook his head.

No, I won't , he thought with a bitter sigh.

He couldn't. Andy glanced into the morgue, picturing Jess in her devastation.

Picturing all the ghosts he'd counseled over the past few years.

All those souls, no longer able to interact with their loved ones.

Lost and adrift, facing eternity. He tried to picture Junior floating about the world, able to watch his family and friends but completely unable to reach them.

Hells, he didn't even have to work hard to imagine it. Even after four years, Junior still struggled with the fact that he couldn't talk to his mother.

Andy was beyond grateful, being able to see his son. Being able to be there so Junior wouldn't be entirely alone. So many other ghosts weren't so lucky.

Andy was all they had.

“No, you won't,” Mr. Bokin said with a chuckle.

Andy braced his hands against the counter and hung his head. Gods damn it all. Why him? Why Devon? Andy squeezed his eyes shut, then inwardly cursed each of the seven gods in turn.

He was just going to have to endure it. For however long Devon worked there, Andy was going to have to bear the torture of facing that perfect boy, knowing he could never have him.

Knowing Devon could die at any moment.