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  Table of Contents

  Hell, Meet Haunted

  About the Book

  Hell, Meet Haunted

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Author's Note

  A Season of Gods and Witches

  My Vampire Billionaire Boss

  Who says there's no dating in the afterlife?

  So, a little about me: I'm a single girl in her late thirties, sufficiently pretty to turn heads, but to tell you the truth, it's my incredible personality that keeps guys interested (jerks like my ex don't count). Also, I'm dead.

  Rather, I'm a ghost. But don't worry, I'm not the type that likes to haunt the daylights out of the living. I'm more the mind-my-own-business type, the kind you won't notice even when I'm sitting right next to you.

  And that's how my life has been the past few months, just your average wandering soul (literally)...until one day, this incredibly off-the-charts hot guy walks into my life, and...well...

  That's when things got really good.

  Like dangerously catch-your-breath-if-I-were-still-breathing kind of good.

  And bad.

  Like more-people-turning-up-dead kind of bad.

  But mostly, good.

  Note: This is a companion novel to A Season of Gods and Witches. It has murder, mystery, and mayhem, along with a hot and heavy romance between two consenting adults. Magical happy ever after guaranteed!

  About the Book

  "HOW DO YOU KNOW SO much of these things?" I couldn't help asking.

  "It's part of my job."

  "Talking to ghosts?"

  "Yes."

  "Like a psychic?"

  I saw him frown as if seriously weighing the relevance of this term to his job, and then after a moment, he said simply, "No."

  "Is it why I can touch you and vice versa?"

  "Yes."

  "Can't you just tell me what your job is?" I asked with a laugh.

  "Hm."

  I started tugging his sleeve. "Come on, please."

  "Why does it matter what job I do?"

  "Because I only date guys with actual jobs, and in case you're wondering - no, I don't consider any kind of criminal activity as a career."

  "Is that your way of saying you want to go out with me?"

  If I had still been in my teens, I wouldn't have even dreamt of answering him with the truth. Would have been too insecure to even consider it. If I had been in my twenties, I'd be weighing my options and gauging his level of interest, just to play it safe. But since I was in my late thirties (and forever would be), I was at that age where I knew and loved myself enough to take even the craziest, occasional risk.

  And so...

  "Can I ask you a question first?"

  The sudden huskiness in my tone had Hadrian's gaze gleaming. "Go on."

  "You really didn't lie about not being married?"

  "I'm recently divorced, if that means anything."

  "It doesn't." I watched the interest in his eyes change into something else as I spoke, and my toes curled. "May I ask one - um, no, may I ask two last questions?"

  "Ask."

  Just one word, but this time, Hadrian's voice had deepened and turned more velvety.

  "Does hooking up constitute a sin?" I might always be game for wild, hot sex, but not if it screwed with my chances for meeting my parents in Heaven - oh no, wait, make that Isle of the Blessed.

  "It doesn't."

  "Oh, thank God."

  His eyes gleamed. "And your second question?"

  "Is something very easy," I said with a wink. "All I'd like to know is if you know anyone who'd be interested in, say, hooking up with a redheaded ghost?"

  "I think..." Hadrian reached up to trace my lower lip with his thumb, and I almost died at the sheer sensuality of it. "The ghost already knows the answer to that."

  "Oh my God, you're hot." The words had him chuckling, and even the mere sound of it was sexy as heck, too. Leaning close, I whispered into his ear, "You were right earlier."

  "About what?"

  "I want to go out with you."

  There was a beat of silence, and I found myself holding my breath even though I wasn't really breathing anymore. Was he going to pull over? Was he going to kiss me? Was he going to—-

  "Hold that thought."

  —-do something I didn't see coming? Apparently, yes. And I couldn't help choking out a laugh. "Seriously?"

  "Seriously."

  "What if I said no?"

  A smirk played over his lips, and I had never seen anything sexier in my life, dead or not dead.

  "Do you want me that much?"

  "Yes," I said shamelessly.

  Hadrian glanced at me. Just one swift glance, lasting no longer than a second, but the smoldering heat in it...mm, well, let's just say it was hotter than Hell, enough to make me clear my throat and start fanning my face. Phew.

  "You're looking a little red," Hadrian murmured.

  "Am I? It's getting a little hot. Must be your air-conditioning," I quipped.

  "Or I'm just too hot."

  I couldn't help laughing even though we both knew it was true. "That should've made you sound like a butthole," I said with a sigh, "but it didn't." I tugged his sleeve again, asking hopefully, "Are you really sure you can't spare even just five minutes?"

  Hell, Meet Haunted

  by Marian Tee writing as Alice Bloome

  Copyright 2020 by Streak Digital Publishing

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Prologue

  THE WORDS 'tall, dark, and handsome' popped in my mind the moment I saw the man walking inside the high-ceilinged lobby of my apartment building. He only had a black hoodie over his denims (also black), but his long, muscular build made the clothes look as if they cost thousands of dollars. Or maybe they really did. Who cared, really? All I wanted to know was whether Tall, Dark, and Handsome was single or married, and my curiosity only grew when I saw him head for the stairs rather than the elevators.

  What's up with that?

  And before I knew it, I was already out of my seat and hurrying after him.

  The stairwell was empty as expected, and although he took the stairs at a fairly steady space, by the time we made it to the seventh floor, I had already seen enough to question whether he was even human or not. Shouldn't he be catching his breath by now, even just a little? And they hadn't even taken a single break, not even for a few seconds—-

  The stranger suddenly turned, and my jaw dropped when I saw him stare straight at me. "Why are you following me?"

  He had seen me!

  "I...I..." I tried thinking of a lie but could only come up with the truth. "I'm scared to be alone."

  "Why?"

  "Because..." Lie, Saoirse, lie!

  He raised a brow.

  "My apartment is haunted?"

  Silver eyes narrowed at me. "And your basis for thinking that?"

  I had been prepared to hear him respond in a hundred different ways, but the one thing that hadn't even crossed my mind was for this too-beautiful stranger to take me seriously. "That's really what you're going to ask?"

  A frown creased his forehead. "Should I hav
e asked something else?"

  "You're kidding, right? Or am I being dense here, and you're actually being sarcastic?"

  "Neither."

  And because it did seem like he meant both, I said uncertainly, "9 out of 10 people would have thought I was crazy."

  But this only had him shrugging. "I've always been the 1 out of 10 type."

  The words should've made him sound like an obnoxious butthole, but there was just something so attractively self-assured about him that the words seemed more like a factual description. It made me wish I was still in the position to ask him out, but...

  "You really like staring, don't you?"

  Oops. He got me there, and I could only smile sheepishly in apology. "I'm sorry. I guess I just got used not being called out for it."

  "Hm."

  I fought back a grin. While it wasn't my first time to hear a man grunt like that, I was only kinda used to hearing Henry Cavill doing it when playing Geralt in The Witcher. I was almost inclined to think that this man might be actively imitating the actor, but...

  Nah.

  If anything, it would be even more believable if this man turned out to be the inspiration behind those grunts. This man simply didn't seem the type to fake—-

  "If there's nothing else..."

  Seeing him about to leave made me panic. "No, wait—-" And when he turned back to face me, I said in a rush, "I...I meant it about my apartment being haunted." At this point, I was willing to say and do anything, just to get him to keep me company.

  "And you want me to check it out?"

  I was half-incredulous, half-hopeful. "You'd really be willing to do that?"

  "I have the time for a brief look, I suppose—-"

  Oh my God, he was! I beamed up at him. "I'll take you up on the offer then. My unit's 13B—-"

  "My unit's across yours." He was already hitting the next flight of stairs as he spoke, and I hurried to keep up with him.

  "I'm Saoirse, by the way."

  "Hadrian." The briskness of his tone didn't change, and I took it as my cue to keep my mouth shut for the rest of our trek to 13/F. When he faced me again, we were already in front of my apartment, and I quietly thanked God that the lock was digital as I punched the necessary digits. A moment later, the display screen flashed Welcome, and I turned to him with a smile. "Here we are!"

  "Hm."

  "You don't like talking much, do you?" I couldn't help asking.

  "No."

  Rhetorical obviously wasn't in his vocabulary, I thought ruefully as the door swung shut behind us, and he began studying my old apartment-—oh, shit. It suddenly but belatedly occurred to me just how wrong this whole thing was, and that I needed to come clean before I ended up getting him in trouble with the current owners. "Um...actually—-" But I ended up losing my train of thought when I saw the way his gaze suddenly snapped back at me. "W-What is it?"

  "I thought you were simply joking," he said abruptly.

  I held my breath.

  "But you weren't, apparently."

  His silvery gaze bored through me, and my heart jumped in my chest.

  "Something is haunting this apartment...and I'm looking at it right now."

  Chapter One

  DEAR DIARY,

  Do you know what the hardest thing is about being a ghost? It's when you're terrified of fellow ghosts, and you have to figure out stuff on your own.

  THE TRUMAN SHOW meets Supernatural. That was the first thing that came to my mind the first time I woke up dead. The world around me was fake, and everyone was simply pretending not to see or hear me. And when I tried touching them and couldn't, I convinced myself that they were all fakes, too. Medically induced hallucinations. Holograms. 3D animations that were realistic as shit. It was only when strangers had come walking in my apartment, talking about how lucky they were to get the place cheap, that I realized I wasn't imagining things.

  'So what if the former owner died here? It's not like ghosts are real.'

  And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how I learned I was a ghost.

  I PRAYED AFTER THAT, and I'd probably have prayed until the Second Coming if I hadn't accidentally clashed gazes with the little girl sitting by the window sill. The dangerous side, mind you, with her legs dangling thirteen stories off the ground. I was already yelling for her to get back inside when she smiled at me. A lopsided smile that revealed blood-covered teeth, and well, that was my first lesson in the afterlife: ghosts (me) can be afraid of other ghosts (them).

  A SELF-TAUGHT CRASH course followed shortly after my first paranormal encounter. How to Survive lessons mostly dealt with my abilities. I learned what it took to walk and to float, learned what to do so I could pass through doors if I needed to or turn the doorknob if I wanted to play alive (as opposed to playing dead, har har har). I also learned, or maybe realized was the better term, that being a ghost meant no longer experiencing a need or drive to eat, sleep, or even pee. On the other hand, my range of emotions remained the same: I was still capable of feeling wistful and angry, happy and sad, but more often than I wished, I was just plain terrified.

  And that's where the How to Hide lessons come to play. I'm not sure if this makes me an afterlife racist or just one big scaredy-cat, but the other ghosts still frightened the shit out of me, and through a couple of impromptu trials by error, I eventually learned how to keep out of their way.

  Ghosts kept to themselves as a rule, and there were only two exceptions to this. Either someone

  was stupid enough to communicate with them (Bloody Mary in front of a mirror, anyone?)...or you happened to be the reason why they were still stuck on Earth. And if the latter turned out to be true...well then, you're fucked.

  People who die in freak accidents that you never thought would happen in real life? Ghosts.

  People who are in their prime dying in their sleep? Ghost.

  People who pride themselves for being vegan and then dying of a heart attack? Ghost.

  That's why I keep saying it: if you want a mess-free life, don't mess with a ghost.

  IT TOOK A WHILE FOR me to acclimatize, but it did happen, and my days settled into a normal routine. I mostly divided my time between floating around shopping malls (more people, less ghosts, that's always the rule) and haunting the lobby in my apartment building because it was still home. Routines made me feel normal. They gave me an excuse to pretend I was leading an afterlife without excitement by choice. I truly thought routines were all I had...until him.

  FAST FORWARD TO THE present, and I was meekly following behind Tall, Dark and Harsh while he remained on the phone, his voice brisk as he barked out order after order like someone extremely used to making things happen.

  When we made it to the basement parking and reached his car, he gestured for me to get in, and I obediently floated into the passenger seat while he remained outside, a harsh expression on his handsome face.

  Security footage...delete...Apartment 13B.

  That was all I could manage to lip-read, but it was more than enough to have me looking away with a wince. The thing was, I had gotten so used to walking wherever I wanted that I had forgotten how only ghosts like me didn't have to worry about being caught trespassing by CCTV cameras. Obviously, that was not the case at all for the living, and when Hadrian finally got inside the car, I couldn't keep myself from saying sorry for, like, the tenth time. It was all I could do, since I wasn't exactly in the ideal state to make amends.

  "It's fine."

  Hadrian's tone was brief, but because I was worried that he was just being polite, I couldn't help myself from saying sorry one last time. "I truly, truly am, and I truly didn't mean to cause any trouble—-"

  "I already said it's fine."

  "So..." I held my breath. "You're not mad?"

  "It would take a lot more than that to have me lose my temper."

  "And the security footage?" I asked in a small voice. "Won't it be hard to delete them—-"

  "I know people who can make it happen." A lock of
hair fell over my eye, and struck with a sudden, inexplicable impulse to brush it off, I found myself reaching towards him—-

  Shit.

  What the hell was I doing?

  Hadrian's fingers curled around my wrist. "What do you think you're doing?"

  My jaw dropped.

  His fingers were around my wrist. His touch was real. Hot. Tangible. And before I knew it, I had already covered his fingers with my other hand, and oh my God, I could still feel his touch. How was this possible?

  "Saoirse?"

  Oops. I let go of his hand right away, and his fingers released my other hand right after. "I'm s-sorry," I stammered. "It's just...I've never..." Shit. It wasn't like me to babble, so I took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm sorry. I tried touching other people before, and it never worked...until now."

  "I'm different," was all he said.

  Different...but not dead. There were two other women with us when we had taken the elevator to the basement parking, and even without all the flirting they did, the way they had stared at him was more than enough proof they could see him the way they couldn't see me.

  "I can see you have many questions," he murmured, "and it's understandable. But I'm pressed for time at the moment, so if it's alright with you, we can talk about your case later."

  My case?

  "For now, however, there's somewhere I need to go," he continued, "and I suppose I have no choice but to take you with me." A frown marred his forehead, and he added almost as an afterthought, "But we can also agree to meet somewhere else—-"

  Realizing that he was about to ditch me, I said quickly, "It's fine. I'll be happy to go with you."

  Hadrian glanced at me oddly. "You don't even know where I'm going."

  "Anywhere's fine." He could be heading for Mars for all I cared, and it wouldn't matter. Stranger danger wasn't exactly a thing anymore when you were dead, and right now, I was just happy to have some company.

  "Suit yourself." He started the engine and asked me to put my seatbelt on.