After Moonrise: Possessed\Haunted (22 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Harper was on edge as she and Levi trekked through the
halls of King’s Landing.

She expected Peeping Thomasina to pop through the walls and
scream “boo,” but the girl never showed. In fact, all of the residents were
strangely quiet.

Maybe they sensed Harper’s mood. Fury and fear burned deep in
her gut, desperate for a release that would not be pretty. Or, heck, maybe they
were frightened of Levi. His gun was drawn and at his side, at the ready.

Unlocking her door proved difficult, because she refused to
place the painting on the floor. She wanted it in her hands or in her studio,
and nowhere else would do. Right now it was her only link to what had happened,
what would happen or what could happen.

Before she could enter, Levi shoved past her. “I’ll check
things—”

“You’re not leaving me—” She drew up beside him.

“Out,” he finished.

“Alone,” she finished at the same time. And then they stopped
abruptly at the sight that greeted them.

Peterson, as well as a man Harper had never met, lounged
comfortably on the couch.

The After Moonrise employee had her now-blue hair pinned into
two knots that looked very much like horns. She wore a dark blue corset, a
spiked dog collar and black pantalets that ended just below her knees, where
blue-and-white-striped socks stretched to black ballerina slippers.

The man next to her had sandy hair and brown eyes. He was
tanned and slightly weathered, as if he’d spent most of his life outdoors. But
what struck Harper most was the fact that he bore the same hard look as Levi, as
if he’d seen the worst the world had to offer and nothing could ever affect him
again.

“Breaking and entering. Very professional,” Levi muttered,
shutting and locking the door behind him.

“It served its purpose. I’m sure you’ve broken into many houses
in the line of duty.” Peterson’s gaze fell to the painting. “Did you finish
it?”

“First,” Levi said, stepping in front of Harper, “who’s the
guy?”

“Are you always this suspicious? This is my associate, Mark
Harrowitz.”

Harrowitz nodded.

Gaze shrewd, Peterson added, “I never enter a strange home
alone. I’m sure you understand. He’s just here to ensure you two don’t try to
murder me.”

Oh, that was all? Harper’s heart drummed in her chest as she
moved to Levi’s side. “And you call
us
suspicious?”

A smile devoid of humor flashed. “Now that the gang’s all here,
can we continue?” Her brows arched, Peterson motioned to Levi’s weapon with a
tilt of her chin. “
Without
the threat of death?”

“Fine.” Levi sheathed his gun
after
moving in front of Harper.

She liked the fact that he wanted to protect her, she did, but
she didn’t like that he placed himself in danger to do it. They’d be having a
chat about that later. Of course, knowing him, he’d kiss her to distract her or
vow only to do what he thought was right no matter what.

“Okay, so. The painting.” Harper stepped around him and spun
the canvas, allowing Peterson to view the horrific scene from top to bottom.
“It’s finished, yes.”

Peterson studied the scene for a long while. Finally, she
nodded. Harper took that as her signal to place the thing on its easel, out of
the room, out of sight, then rejoined the group in the living room.

Levi had taken the seat across from Peterson and motioned her
over. The moment she was within reach, he tugged her beside him, so that she
practically reclined across his lap. A protest was not forthcoming. She liked
where she was, and needed his strength.

“So what do you have for us?” he demanded. His tone lacked any
kind of emotion, but there was no doubt he expected total compliance.

“You’re not going to like it,” Peterson warned.

Harper raised her chin. “Tell us, anyway.”

Silence. A nod, a sigh. Peterson leaned over and dug into the
black case resting at her feet. She withdrew several sheets of paper, several
newspaper clippings, a DVD and a laptop. “Did you wonder why the receptionist
and I had a meltdown at the sight of you?”

“No. Straight-up rudeness,” Harper said at the same time Levi
said, “Yeah,” and squeezed her in a bid for less attitude.

“Well, I apologize for that,” Peterson said. “We just don’t get
many people like you in our offices.”

“What does
that
mean?” Harper
huffed. She was too uneasy to be nice.

Harrowitz stiffened, as if he expected Harper to launch across
the coffee table and attack. He was very astute. No one talked badly about
Levi’s rough, gruff exterior but her!

Peterson placed her hand on his wrist, soothing him. “Before we
get to that, let me ask you a few more questions.”

“No, we—” Harper tried to protest. She wanted answers of her
own.

“Have you noticed anything weird about this apartment
building?” Peterson asked, plowing ahead.

Levi popped his jaw. “Last night a girl appeared in Harper’s
hallway and then vanished before our eyes. Clearly, she was a spirit.”

Fine. They’d do this Peterson’s way. “On more than one occasion
that same girl has told me that I was a naughty girl, and that he would be
coming for me, but not who ‘he’ is or what ‘he’ wants, or why she thinks I’m so
naughty.”

Peterson and Harrowitz shared a look that wrecked what remained
of Harper’s nerves. Never had she been so stressed, so unsure, and these people
were taking time to communicate silently with each other. How frustrating!

“One more question. Someone other than you lives here,”
Peterson said, head tilting to the side. “I found some of her things. Who is
she?”

“Lana. The one who works for After Moonrise here in OKC.”

Peterson nodded to Harrowitz, who began typing on his PDA.
Several minutes ticked by in silence, and Harper thought she would scream before
he finished. At last, Harrowitz showed Peterson the screen.

After reading it, she said, “All right, then. We’ll start with
you, Levi.” Peterson opened her laptop, inserted a disc, did some typing of her
own and turned the screen.

Tense, Harper watched the screen. A local reporter appeared, a
woman in her late fifties, distinguished with her hair in a slick bob, her
makeup perfectly applied and her expression somber.

“It’s a sad day for Oklahomans,” the woman said. “One of our
finest was killed in the line of duty today while trying to apprehend Cory
Topper, the suspected Billboard Butcher. Allegedly, Topper stabbed the detective
in the chest and thigh, and he was rushed to the nearest hospital where he was
pronounced dead upon arrival.” She kept talking, but Harper had trouble hearing
her.

Levi’s picture flashed over the screen, a younger version of
the man she knew, serious, rough-and-tumble, wearing an army uniform. The date
of his birth glowed underneath—as did the date of his death.

His death.

Eyes wide, she swung around to study him. His jaw was clenched,
his skin pale.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No. I would remember
dying
. I would have some indication that I’m no
longer…human.” The last word emerged broken.

“Not always,” Peterson replied gently. “Sometimes the memory is
buried because the reality is too painful to face. That leaves a big, black hole
that needs to be filled. My guess is, things have happened to you lately and you
have no way to explain them. You have gaps in your memory. And when you would
find yourself on the right path, answers finally within reach, you’d lose more
time. That was your mind shutting down as a way of protecting itself.”

Another shake of his head. “I spoke to one of my coworkers just
yesterday. In person, no less. He saw me, heard me, answered my questions.”

“I’m sure he did. I’m also sure he can communicate with
spirits, and that’s why you successfully conversed with him.”

He drew in a sharp breath, his nostrils flaring. “He can, but
that doesn’t mean anything. He would have told me.”

“No. He wouldn’t have wanted to be the one to break the bad
news to you.”

For a moment, stars winked through Harper’s line of sight. “But
I can touch Levi,” she whispered. “And we crashed in a hotel last night, even
talked to the clerk to get the room. Then Levi drove me here. In a car!”

“Either the clerk can see spirits and humored you, which isn’t
likely considering most of us work for After Moonrise or in law enforcement, or
you convinced yourself of what you wanted to believe. And you didn’t drive here,
I promise you. Both of you expected to ride in a car, and so you both
constructed a scene. If you talked it over, you’d probably discover you invented
different makes and models.”

No. Impossible. “You’re wrong about this. I cooked, he
ate.”

“Another lie you told yourself.”

“Then why did you tell him to put down his gun?” she demanded,
her voice rising. Levi had yet to react to any of this. “If he’s a spirit, he
couldn’t have shot you.”

“If he’d pulled the trigger, he would have expected something
to happen. When nothing did, he would have gotten angry, probably attacked me,
and Harrowitz here would have had a problem with that. Now, I know you have more
questions, but I’m afraid I’m not finished yet.”

With a sad smile, Peterson typed something into the laptop and
the screen changed once again. The same reporter was speaking, though her hair
was styled differently and she wore a different top. Obviously this news feed
was from a different day. She talked about the identities of some of Topper’s
victims, and how the most recent to be killed was—

Her.

Aurora Harper.

No. No, no, no.

The stars returned, thicker, more numerous, threatening to
expand and consume her entire mind.
I’m not… I can’t
be…
“No!” she shouted, jumping to her feet. Dizziness swam through
her mind, and she swayed.

Harrowitz jumped to his feet, too. His hands were fisted, his
eyes slitted in warning.

Pale and a bit unsteady, Peterson unfolded more slowly. “You
need to calm down, Harper. Your negative energy is painful to us, and Harrowitz
here can make
you
hurt in turn. If he does, you may
be forced into leaving this world for good, before you finish whatever you
stayed here to finish.”

She wasn’t dead, she couldn’t possibly be dead, but she would
deal with that in a minute. “My friend. I painted her face before I painted
mine. Is she… She can’t be… Tell me she’s alive!”

“She’s alive,” Peterson assured her, palms out in a gesture of
innocence. “You painted yourself, your circumstance. I’m not sure why you first
painted her face. All I know is your Lana can see the dead like Levi’s coworker.
That’s why she was able to live here with you.”

See the dead.

The phrase reverberated through her mind.
See the dead.

Dead.

She wasn’t, Harper thought again. She couldn’t be. Lana would
have told her.

Lana, so sad sometimes, crying and sobbing, keeping so many
secrets. Lana, so guilty sometimes, so desperate for Harper to figure out what
had happened to her. Lana, who had stopped touching her, even in the simplest of
ways.

But that was because of Harper’s aversion to physical contact.
Right?

Learning the truth is the only way you’ll
ever find peace,
Lana had said. As if she had already known the truth
herself.

Harper…could suddenly see the walls of a basement room, photos
of pain and blood all around her, staring down at her. Tools hung from a board
by the only door. Knives of every size, saws, hammers, spiked boards, razors and
gags.

Gags laced with drugs meant to keep you awake, to keep you
lucid while…while…

“No,” she croaked, shaking her head violently. She fell back
into Levi’s lap. Still he gave no reaction. Was he in shock?

“You can touch Levi and he can touch you because you’re
part of the same world,
existing on the same plane.
You will not be able to touch humans, however. Here.” Peterson extended a shaky
hand. “Try me. I’ll prove it.”

Harrowitz sat down and grabbed her arm. He shook his head.

Peterson dropped her arm, sighed. “Oh, yeah. No touching the
dead.”

Dead, she’d so casually stated. Dead.

“You were the last to die, Harper,” Peterson said. “Levi busted
in on Topper just after he’d killed you. He saw your mutilated body and reacted.
That’s why he attacked Topper. That’s why he missed the blade Topper still
held.”

Harper felt a strong, warm band around her waist. The contact
was too much, not enough; she couldn’t breathe, could barely sit still, wanted
to stay, wanted to leave. Was falling…tumbling down an endless void. And yet,
somehow that strong, warm band kept her steady.

Merciless, Peterson continued, “Everyone in this building is a
spirit. Certain spirits are drawn here, and we don’t know why. Maybe like calls
to like. All I know is that the OKC branch of After Moonrise bought it, and
monitors it to the best of their ability, and as long as you’re here, keeping to
yourselves, they’re happy.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

Peterson pressed on. “I’m guessing that’s why Lana sent you to
me, rather than to her own firm. She didn’t want them involved in your afterlife
any more than they already were. Yes, they know you’re here. I checked. But they
like that you’re here and unaware of what happened. You’re not out there causing
any trouble. If that changes, they could decide to force you to move on.”

“No,” Harper repeated.

And still Peterson kept talking. “It’s not all bad. This is
supposed to be a fresh start for you, a chance to finally live right, to fix
mistakes or tragedies before letting go of the ghosts of the past, to have the
brightest future possible.”

“No!”