Hell, Meet Haunted Read online

  "You're kidding, right?"

  Hadrian gave me a look that made me feel I was 3.8 years old instead of 38. It was cute, but still.

  "Why would I have to—-oh." No point protesting now, with an impatient Hadrian having already reached for my seatbelt just to get it over with. As he snapped the lock into place, the side of his arm accidentally brushed against my breast—-

  I sucked my breath in surprise while Hadrian jerked away from me like the contact scalded him. Um. Okay. Did I disgust him or something?

  "Sorry about that," he said curtly.

  I fluttered my lashes at him. "Please don't."

  Silence.

  "In case you didn't notice," I said helpfully, "that was me flirting."

  His lips twitched. "I noticed."

  "Do you find it weird? A ghost flirting with you?"

  "No."

  "Sure?"

  His gaze dipped to my breasts, and I found myself sucking my breath for another time when his gaze lifted back to mine. "I absolutely don't mind." And this time, the heat in his eyes was unmistakable, and I nearly squealed in delight. Yes. Yes. Yes. Who would've thought I could still have a shot at dating even in the afterlife?

  "You're attracted me, too," I declared boldly. "Aren't you?"

  His lips only curved in response, but this only added to his appeal. I had always been (secretly) attracted to men of mystery and intrigue, and Tall, Dark, and Handsome here had mysterious written all over him.

  Definitely my type, but...

  I cocked my head to the side as I studied him. "I think I already know the answer to this, but..." My gaze flicked to his ringless finger as I asked him point blank: "Are you married?"

  "No." His gaze narrowed. "My turn to ask questions."

  "Sure." I was happily expecting him to start asking the same questions, but instead everything he wanted to know had to do with my demise.

  Bummer.

  But since I was dying for any kind of conversation after months of isolation...

  How long have you been dead? Five months, three days, but who's counting?

  Cause of death? Ruptured brain aneurysm, but since it happened when I was asleep, I didn't feel a thing. One day, I just woke up, and I was dead.

  Did you know right away you were dead? No.

  And so it went on and on, and I answered every question truthfully because, well...that's another perk of being a ghost: there's absolutely zero pressure to be anything but yourself.

  "And you're absolutely sure," Hadrian asked, "there was no tunnel of light?"

  "Was there supposed to be one?"

  "If you're not meant to be reborn and you've gained instant entry to the Isle of the Blessed...yes."

  "Isle of the Blessed?" I echoed blankly.

  "Commonly known as Heaven."

  My brows furrowed. If Heaven was the Isle of the Blessed, which was apparently accessible by a tunnel of light...that I did not see...didn't that mean...

  A gasp of horror escaped me. "Are you telling me I'm bound for Hell?"

  Say no, say no, say no!

  But instead, Tall, Dark, and Heartless started interrogating me like I was a suspect for homicide.

  "Have you committed suicide?"

  "No!"

  "Have you killed any other human being?"

  I shook my head.

  "Have you seriously thought of it?"

  "I'm not a murderer, okay?"

  "Are you guilty of any kind of act that you were fully aware could cause another person unnecessary and grave suffering—-"

  "No!"

  "Whether physically, mentally, emotionally, or psychologically?"

  I started to say no, but then a memory drifted into my consciousness, and I asked guiltily, "I bullied my parents into paying for ballet lessons that I ended up hating. Does that count?"

  "No." Hadrian's tone was dry. "It doesn't count."

  I perked up. "Then does that mean..."

  "Yes, you are not bound for Tartarus."

  His strange use of terms finally hit me. Tartarus? Isle of the Blessed? "What's up with all these Greek mythology terms?" I demanded. "Why don't you just use the word Hell?"

  "Because Hell, which is another term for the Underworld, is a vast realm, and your idea of it only pertains to the region of Tartarus."

  "Underworld...like in Greek mythology?"

  Something flashed in Hadrian's eyes. "You know of it?"

  "I may not like books, but I'm not an idiot. Of course I know what the Underworld is. I did watch Hercules, you know—-" I saw the way his lip curled at the reference, and I couldn't help bursting into laughter. "Oh my. Are you one of those intellectual snobs who think knowledge can only be obtained from hardbacks?"

  "Better that," he said coolly, "than an animated film that dares to turn gods into laughingstocks."

  "Ooh. Touchy."

  I only got a grunt in response, but one with such a lofty tinge of contempt that I had to suppress another smile. "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?"

  "Unfortunately, no...since we're already here." Hadrian switched his engine off as he spoke, and I realized with a start that he had already backed his car into a parking slot. I got out of the car and looked around me, unnerved by the thickness of the fog around us.

  Hadrian frowned when he saw me already out of the car. "You should've waited for me to open the door for you," he admonished gently.

  "You can't open a door for a ghost," I teased.

  But he only shrugged this off, saying, "Just wait for me to open it next time."

  "Is that something you do for all women or just me?"

  "Just you."

  "Ha!"

  But Hadrian didn't even answer, busy as he was taking my hand to snap a plain gold band around my wrist.

  "Uh. What's this?" And was it normal for him to carry around women's bracelets with him all the time, like a serial killer always needing to have something to lure college co-eds...

  Hadrian rolled his eyes. "Whatever it is you're thinking, I promise it's not that." He ran his fingers over the bracelet, and I gasped in surprise when I saw brightly glowing symbols materialize on his surface.

  "Is this battery-operated or solar powered?"

  "Neither," Hadrian answered with a smile.

  "Neither?"

  "Because it's magical."

  "Uh huh." He had to be kidding.

  "And the place we're about to enter is spell-protected."

  "I see."

  "Without this bracelet, you won't be able to enter the place."

  "Even if I'm a ghost?"

  "Even if you're a ghost."

  Hadrian took my hand, and the fog began to thin as we started walking. I had no idea how Hadrian could see where we're going, but we eventually arrived at the front steps of...

  Shit.

  Silver Mist Hospital, the panel signage read, and that was not a good thing. Ghosts loved hanging out at hospitals, which of course made it one of my top places to avoid.

  "Why are we in a hospital?" Was he a doctor? Did he know someone who was ill? Or—-

  "Someone escaped from Tartarus, and I mean to find out who."

  Chapter Two

  DEAR DIARY,

  Here are my new rules of survival: don't go where it's quiet and empty, don't float, and above all else, do not ever make eye contact with any one of them. The moment they see you, and you see them, they'll know: you're a ghost, too.

  INCIDENT REPORT

  DETAIL OF EVENT:

  1. At 0409H, a rupture with a diameter of 3.5 feet occurred at the southwest border of Tartarus.

  I clicked on the link below, which turned out to be a virtual 365-degree tour of what I assumed was Hell's most terrifying region. The skies seemed like an endless ocean of darkness, and the ground so impossibly dry and hot that steam streamed out from every fissure and crack.

  I swiped my finger on the screen until I had moved to the furthest edge of the photo.

  Bingo.

  Imagine a paper with a circle cut out in its center, and imagine what the outline of that circle would look like if it were set on fire. That picture in your mind was what the rupture looked like: a burning hole in the wall, made by magic.

  2. Above incident enabled an unidentified woman (UW) to gain unauthorized entry into the area, and with various witnesses (Attachment 1.1 - 1.3) stating that they saw UW talking to unidentified missing subject (MS). According to the same witnesses, the conversation between both parties lasted anywhere between one to three minutes.

  3. UW was able to leave the area through the same access point.

  4. At approximately, 0418H, roving sentries and other subjects saw MS jump into the river of Phlegethon.

  I clicked on Phlegethon's hyperlink and gulped when I saw what it looked like. It was a river of fire, literally, and I couldn't imagine what would drive a person to even dip a toe in its waters.

  Actions Taken:

  1. Sentries immediately attempted rescue and retrieval but were only able to retrieve several pieces of human bones.

  2. Alarm was sounded off at 0420H.

  3. Remains were sent to NSA for autopsy.

  4. Additional evidence collected from areas of interest revealed use of a swapping spell.

  5. Investigation to identify both UW and MS is still ongoing.

  Hadrian studied my expression when I finished reading the incident report and handed him back his phone. "You have questions?"

  I didn't answer right away. Although we had one of the hospital's consultation rooms all to ourselves, the glass partition didn't exactly provide us total privacy. Anyone walking the hallways outside would see Hadrian talking, and I was worried they'd think he was crazy.

  "Don't you think it's better if you pretend you're on the phone while we're talking—-"

  "You don't need to worry about that," Hadrian said. "I have my work badge with me." He showed me his watch, and I blinked in confusion. Sure, it looked expensive and sophisticated, but nothing about it screamed 'I see dead people', if you know what I mean.

  Looking up, I said baldly, "I don't get it."

  "There's a symbol that flashes here—-" He tapped on the glass-covered face of his watch. "But it's a spell-protected symbol—-"

  "Not that again," I said with a groan.

  Hadrian smiled. "But it is that. More than half of this town's population consists of people who are able to practice magic, and that number includes Silver Mist Hospital's entire workforce."

  "No shit?"

  "No shit."

  Hadrian's bland tone, however, was belied by the way his silver eyes were so clearly laughing at me - again - and I wrinkled my nose at him. "Cut me some slack. All this mention of magic—-"

  "Might be as unbelievable as someone talking to a ghost, perhaps?"

  He really had a point there, so I decided to change the subject instead of having to admit that I was wrong. "So, about the incident report..." Hadrian's smirk told me he knew what I was doing, but I pretended not to notice this. "Why did your wall...rupture?"

  "Because someone dared to create a portal between this world and Tartarus."

  "So the unidentified woman..."

  "Was a living person from this world."

  "And she willingly went to Hell?" I asked incredulously.

  "She did more than that, actually," Hadrian said grimly. "As you've read from the incident report, the evidence we have in our possession strongly suggests that a swapping spell was used."

  "I didn't actually get that part," I admitted. "What kind of evidence was collected and what's a swapping spell?"

  "Every time a person performs a spell, it usually leaves a trace of...I suppose the best term to use is magical DNA. And we have experts, machinery, and means to examine such evidence. In this case, CSI—-"

  "CSI? You're working with the CSI?"

  "CSI as in Circe Security Initiative."

  "Ah." I made a mental note to Google what Kurkey meant. Was it related to Turkey the country or turkey the bird?

  "It's a government agency that handles all types of crimes perpetuated with the aid of magic."

  "So, just like this world's CSI but with magic involved," I conclu
ded.

  "Exactly."

  "And the swapping spell?" I asked. "I'm trying to think of what someone from this world could possibly want to exchange with someone from Hell. Brimstone for, say, jelly beans?"

  "You're thinking in terms of objects, but with a swapping spell, it actually means the soul of UW is now in MS...and vice versa."

  My jaw dropped. That was possible? "

  "And because UW, who is now in MS' body, voluntarily jumped into the waters of Phlegethon—-"

  Phlegethon, according to Google, was one of the five main bodies of water in Underworld, but more importantly, it was one of the more dangerous rivers, too. Why not dive into the waters of, say, Lethe, for instance, which was the river of forgetfulness? Amnesia might suck, but it wouldn't kill you, whereas fire, well...It didn't just guarantee one's death but also...

  "She didn't just want to kill herself," I gasped in horrified realization. "She was also hoping she could destroy all evidence of MS' body so you'd have a harder time connecting the dots between them."

  Hadrian's lips curved. "Well done, detective."

  I was about to preen and give myself a pat on the shoulder when a nurse knocked on our door and told Hadrian that Dr. Ace was now ready to receive him.

  "Dr. Ace?" The only Ace I know was a pet detective.

  "Short for Aesculapius."

  "Uh huh." No point Googling that guy since I couldn't even begin to figure out how to spell his name.

  "Would you like me to introduce you to him when we get to his lab?" Hadrian asked as we took the stairs to the basement.

  "Would he be able to see or hear me?"

  "There's a spell I can use—-"

  "Oh, it's fine," I protested quickly. "I appreciate the offer, but it's fine." Talking about magic was one thing. Experiencing it was another, and even my ghostly self wasn't ready for that.

  "As you wish."

  We made it to the basement, and Hadrian continued walking past several laboratories until we came to a halt before a pair of digitally secured glass doors with a name plate mounted above it.

  AESCULAPIUS, M.D.

  CHIEF CORONER

  NOSTRADAMUS’ SANATARIUM OF ALCHEMISTS (NSA)

  I almost snickered. No wonder people preferred calling him Dr. Ace. That name of his was a spelling monstrosity, and wait a minute...did I read that correctly? My gaze snapped to Hadrian. "Nostradamus? As in the Nostradamus?"