Possessed

“Don’t call me crazy,” she snapped. “I didn’t figure it out before. I don’t touch many people, never really have. But you. You touch me all the time. A hug, a pat on the back, a shoulder rub. You do it all to get to her.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Maybe I don’t have a problem with physical intimacy like you do.”

She saw his lips thin and it only made her angrier. “Do not attempt to blame me for this. You felt her that night. I was connected to her. I couldn’t keep her out. I was horrified afterward. I tried not to let you know, but you did know. Somehow you knew she was there. You weren’t fucking me. You were trying to make love to your dead wife.”

“Cass, don’t do this. Don’t go there.”

Exactly what she’d asked him not to do, but he did it anyway. “I felt something today. McDonough, when he touched me, there was definitely something. I saw it in his eyes. It was as if someone had slapped him, he reacted so abruptly. I thought about how long it had been since I’d touched someone, and I realized the last time was that night with you. There’s a reason why I avoid contact. Subconsciously, I must have sensed that this thing that I have, this gift, it’s changing. It explains everything. How you were with me, how I felt the next morning.”

“And how did you feel?” he asked angrily.

“I felt used,” she stated coldly. “But I’d thought that Claire had been the one using me.” She grabbed her purse. “I’m going to be sick. You have your ticket. If you need anything else from me have one of the other officers contact me.”

Cass pushed herself out of the booth and scrambled for the front door. Not quick enough. She felt Dougie wrapping his hand around her arm, pulling her back. She tugged but couldn’t shake off his hold. It infuriated her. Turning to face him, she gritted her teeth and tried to give the appearance of a woman who was about to pitch a major fit in a public place.

“Just settle down and talk to me, Cass. It’s not what you think, okay. Yeah, maybe sometimes I can feel…I don’t know…whatever, but that has nothing to do with us.”

“How can you say that? Don’t you see, you’re no better than someone who rents a girl off the streets and makes her tell you her name is Claire.”

“That’s not true,” he said tightly. “It isn’t like that. It’s not dirty. It’s me and Claire together and there was nothing ever dirty about that.”

“You’re wrong. It is dirty. As sullied as it would have been to invite me into your bedroom when she was still alive. Now let go.”

“What are you going to do if I don’t,” he taunted.

Cass practically snarled at him. “I’m so sick to death of being bullied by men today. Get your damn hand off me or I will bring this place down around your ears and you will be explaining to your superiors why you felt the need to accost a woman on your free time.”

Her determination must have shown through her eyes because after a second he released her arm.

She shrugged it out of his open grasp and bolted for the door. Outside in the fresh air, she leaned against the brick building and tried to rein herself in. The sudden burst of nausea she’d felt at the realization of what had actually happened that night had dissipated, but in its place were loss and humiliation. Neither of which were going anywhere.

When had the gift changed? It was bad enough hearing the voices; she’d learned to cope with that, even control it to some extent. Now she was some freak ghost conductor. It was maddening.

An image of Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost, inflating with the spirit of a dead husband, mocked her. There was nothing funny about this. This wasn’t what she wanted.

She’d never wanted any of it. A steady dribble of rain began to pelt the top of her head. Lifting her face to it, she felt the sting of the cold on her cheeks, but it made her feel cleaner.

In front of her, the street was filled with normal people. Lots of normal people-young people it appeared- moving from one bar to the next. Second Street, which was just a block off of South Street, was busy every night of the week but more so on the weekend. Once people were done shopping for the strange and unusual on South Street, they would make their way to a bar to show off the strange and unusual purchases, flirt and pass time with friends. When it got late and they got drunk, they would make their way back to Pat’s King of Steaks for a cheese steak wit’ Whiz.

Like wings and beer, it was a Philly tradition.

One that she no longer let herself be a part of. There was a time when her younger coworkers at whatever meaningless job she had would invite her out after work. Inevitably, they figured out that she was different. Ultimately, the invitations would stop. Then one day one of those coworkers, who had once told her she should come and hang out with him, would call her up on the phone and fire her.

She shouldn’t have been surprised that her talent had mutated without her knowing it, because she was so damn removed from everyone. What the hell was she going to do now? She’d built a life designed to maintain some control over her world: few possessions, few friends and simple jobs that allowed her to use her gift without being overwhelmed by it.

Now she had to add avoiding all physical contact? It was as if she were building her own prison, stone by stone. A prison that would be far worse than anything she’d experienced in the asylum. Knowing there were no answers forthcoming, Cass pushed off the wall at her back and made her way across the cobbled sidewalk to the crosswalk.

Thoughts of Dr. Farver and the Institute of Psychical Studies floated through her consciousness, but she rejected the notion. She wasn’t going back there. Yes, he might be able to help her set up a controlled environment to start testing what was happening to her, but in the end he wouldn’t believe it was real.

Dr. Farver had other ideas concerning her special talent. None of them had anything to do with the dead.

Spotting her bike, where she’d left it chained to a parking meter, Cass stepped toward it, then stopped. A tingling sensation on the back of her neck was sounding the alarm.

Instantly she scanned the street, trying to see who might be her point of contact. But everyone was still bustling along seemingly without noticing the woman standing near the edge of the street. She concentrated on forming the room.

Across two lanes of traffic on the other side of the street, Cass saw a figure in an oversize hooded sweatshirt and baggy jeans stop abruptly. The hood was pulled low over the person’s head, so Cass couldn’t make out any features-for that matter, couldn’t even tell if it was a man or woman.

However, she could feel a set of eyes on her, staring. The sensation unnerved her so much that she moved out of the light of the streetlamp, allowing the night to keep her in the dark.

A burst of sharp pain stabbed her between the eyes as the door to her room opened without her consent.

On the other side of it was the monster.

Chapter 8

Cass focused on her breathing and tried not to panic as she saw the monster draw nearer. In her mind she acted as she had before, moving across the room in an attempt to close the door and shut it out. But by the time she got there, the hooves of the beast were already wedged into a space between the door and its frame. It pushed against her, forcing her back into the room.

It was so close this time. Its nose was pushed up against its face like a pig’s snout, and two large fangs hung down over its mouth, dripping with spit.

What do you want?

It tilted back its head and shouted. The noise penetrated her whole body, shaking her internal organs. Sha-a Uh-h-h!

Cass couldn’t decipher the answer to her silent question. She didn’t even know why she had tried. She listened to voices from the other side. Before now, it had never occurred to her to speak back.

The monstrous thing moved steadily forward into the room, past the defenses she’d constructed. Slinking back, she thought to avoid contact altogether until she could…Do what? Escape? Was that possible from a room she had