“Don’t go in there,” Stretch cautioned. “There’s some bad stuff in that cloud.”
Stretch actually shuddered before she blinked away.
Goosebumps rose on Ryley’s arms, making her frown. The sign on the door read Employees Only. The solid door had a card reader to gain entrance, like one might find used on a hotel room door. The light above it showed a solid red.
She touched the door and closed her eyes. The static energy from the other side zapped her fingertips from the touch. It was the same type of energy Ryley used to cross unwilling spirits into the light. A useful tool to have.
She yanked her hand away and rubbed her fingers. There were spirits inside. She was sure of it.
“Is there something I can help you with, Ms. St. James?” Henry asked as he rounded the corner, making her jump. Her hand flew to her chest.
“You should wear a bell or something, so you don’t scare a girl.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Are you trying to break in?”
She continued to rub at her fingers. “What’s behind this door?”
Henry glanced at it and raised his brow. “That’s where the mortician preps the deceased before service.”
“You mean like hair and makeup once the embalming is finished?” she asked.
“Of course. The deceased has to be presentable. It’s an emotional time for the family, and it’s upsetting if poor Grandma Greta looks like a drag queen for her viewing.”
“That sounds kind of fun.” Ryley glanced at the closed door once more. “Who was the guy with the spiky black and purple hair?”
Henry shrugged. “I believe Father James introduced him as Pete Roth. He’s Mercy Traver's new assistant. She’s the full-time on-site mortuary beautician.”
“Thanks, Henry.” Ryley patted his arm and headed back for her car. After slipping inside, she noted the names of the beauticians to check out later.
She rarely stuck her nose where it didn’t belong, but the black shadowy cloud that even Stretch seemed to fear had a way of screwing with the newly departed, and hanging around a cemetery there was plenty to be screwing with.
Ryley cranked her car to life and drove across town to her apartment.
She pulled into the lot and parked. Her gaze landed on the taunting gray metal mailboxes. She chewed on the inside of her cheek while scanning the building and nearby trees before returning her gaze to the mailbox. How could something so…normal, invoke so much apprehension around this time of year? She fought the growing tightness in her chest.
She let out a shaky breath and climbed out. “For crying out loud,” she mumbled. “There’s only one way to find out.”
She headed for the mailbox. Her fingers shook as she shoved the key into the slot. Twisting the lock, she counted to five to calm her shaky nerves before she eased the compartment open.
Nothing. Not even junk mail. The butterflies in her stomach dissipated and she breathed out the anxiety clogging her lungs. Today wasn’t the day.
Ryley climbed the stairs to the second floor and paused at her door. Squatting, she examined the tape by her feet that was attached to both the doorframe and the door. Still intact. That was a good thing. The tape was a homemade warning system she’d been using since the age of ten. She yanked the cellophane tape free and used her keys on all three locks.
Her apartment wasn’t much. She needed nothing more than a place to feel safe with a warm bed. When her mom had to quit waitressing because of her health scares, both Tucker and Ryley had found jobs while going to school to keep them all fed. Between that and food pantries, it had been the best they could do. She wasn’t complaining. Anything was better than having to deal with her father or potentially ending up in foster care.
She pulled the door open and stepped over the line of salt at her door before moving all three locks back into place. Evil people lived in both the static and the actual world. If a person was evil in life, most times he’d carry that trait into death and she’d met her fair share.
She dropped her purse and keys in the bowl on the entry table and tugged off her high heels, letting them dangle from her fingers as she headed toward her room.
Just being home gave her a renewed sense of security. The light feeling of the rooms helped to calm her nerves, as did the lingering scent left from the morning sage.
Protection was a priority, especially with the approaching anniversary. Ryley tossed her shoes into the closet, took a quick shower, and changed into her nightclothes. Closing the blackout curtains, she crawled into bed and set her alarm. She had a few more hours of sleep before she had to go to work.
Thoughts of the thick black cloud occupied her mind before she drifted off to sleep.
Her eyes flew open three hours later, and she jolted upright in her bed. She rested her hand against her racing heart. The remnants of the disturbing dream fluttered in her mind. The dark mass swirled around, coming into and out of focus, sometimes terrifying as it swelled and receded. Ryley turned on her side and stared at the clock, knowing sleep would probably not return tonight.
Ryley tiredly popped the top on another beer bottle and sat it on the serving tray next to the two shots of bourbon. Her lack of sleep from earlier had her behind dragging and her attitude annoyed. The men at the table across the room were already three sheets to the wind. They’d been drinking and celebrating a promotion since five. The poor soul who had died to make the job opening was hovering nearby shooting looks that could kill at his former co-workers.
All around Ryley, the air was tight with apprehension.
She’d been working
