“I’ve got to go, Libby,” I blurted out, practically running toward the front doors of the office as my anxiety got the best of me and I decided I needed a mental health break.

  “Fifi, are you okay?” I heard her call out behind me, but I was already out the double doors.

  I’m nuts. That is the only explanation for what’s going on. There is no ghost, no Rhea, no woman. I’m crazy and the EMF meter must be broken.

  I looked down to see the thing registering off the charts, as if in response to my thoughts. I leaned against the cool brick exterior of my building, feeling like I might burst into tears any moment. I could see the silenced meter continuing to blink a solid red color, registering just past the top mark. It didn’t escape me that the wall I was now leaning against was the exterior wall of my corner office.

  Was Rhea back in my office again? Was that what the device was reporting?

  I resisted the urge to run back inside to check my office. I felt like I was on a wild goose chase that would only end in my humiliation. Furthermore, I didn’t want my employees to see me running around the office with the EMF meter clutched in my hands as I searched for someone who wasn’t even there. Talk about losing their respect.

  Groaning loudly, I glanced sideways, only to find myself looking at a woman lounging at the corner of the building where it met the parking lot. It was Rhea.

  My heart started pounding in earnest and I couldn’t catch my breath. It was a strange response—not exactly fear, necessarily, more shock.

  I watched her for a moment, in stunned amazement and surprise, as she brought her fingers to her lips as if smoking a cigarette, though there was nothing in her hand. She was wearing the same blouse and long skirt she had been the first time I saw her and, as far as I could tell, she hadn’t yet seen me.

  Maybe she’s crazy too—a crazy ghost and a crazy succubus. It sounds like the premise to a bad joke.

  I stood there, stuck in place, because I wasn’t sure what to do next. Should I say something to her? Approach her? I didn’t want to scare her and, as far as I could tell, she was oblivious to my presence. It was as if she were lost in such deep thought that nothing around her registered on her scale of existence. Then again, I had to consider whether that was truer than I thought. Was it possible I was seeing her through some time tunnel or portal or something that allowed me a funneled view into some parallel dimension? Like another plane of existence? Maybe I had it backwards, and I was the one who was really a ghost and she was the one who was real?

  I’d heard of people stepping into other realms before, which might explain why the others in my office couldn’t see her. Or maybe this had nothing to do with portals and worm holes and all that scientific mumbo-jumbo and she was just a different sort of entity altogether? It all sounded a bit too sci-fi to me, but who was I to say it wasn’t possible? There were a lot of folks who would deny the existence of monsters, too. And look how wrong they were.

  I was a bit fascinated by Rhea, in all honesty. I’d seen just about everything in the Hollow, all sorts of monsters came here to settle down or at least came here looking to settle down. But I’d never seen a spirit like Rhea.

  And while that was interesting, it was also concerning.

  It was a delicate balance, the sometimes slim line between supernatural and natural, so when someone like Rhea showed up, and I couldn’t account for her nature, it was a concern for all of us. Maybe she was harmless, but that remained to be seen. Whatever, or whoever, she was—she was an anomaly. The real question was: could she also be an abomination in disguise? Something dangerous? It was hard to imagine that with her small stature, button nose, and overall pretty face, but not all things monstrous appeared in their true form. My former boss, Ophelia Ponsobby, was a fine example of that.

  I turned my attention back to Rhea, inching slowly toward her as I continued to watch her. She still seemed unaware that I was even there and just like the first time I’d seen her, that same feeling of depression laced with desperation hit me like a stone wall. I continued moving towards her as slowly as I could, hoping she’d look up and notice me because I didn’t want to startle her.

  There was a certain sadness to her disposition—the way she stood there with her head down and her shoulders slumped slightly forward. She held no hint of a smile. Her eyes were dulled by pain, but not a physical sort of pain, but some deeply emotional wound that wouldn’t heal. I could feel the grief coming off her like summer heat off a freshly tarred road. Except, it wasn’t hot. It was cold outside, but the chill factor wasn’t just owing to a February day in Oregon. No, the cold went beyond natural frigidity.

  The more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself Rhea wasn’t on some alternate plain, because she looked as clear and tangible as any other person would. But she wasn’t like any other person—I was fairly convinced she wasn’t human. I wasn’t even sure she’d ever been human. Whoever she was, whatever she was, she possessed a darkness that not only surrounded her but seemed to emanate from her, as if the shadow of sadness were its own entity.

  I shook off my thoughts and steeled myself for a confrontation of some sort, taking the final few steps to reach her. I felt like I was moving in slow motion, the seconds ticking by like they were minutes—like I was walking through thick tar—sticky and tough.

  Ten seconds became ten minutes, or at least, that’s how it felt.

  Finally, I reached her and stood still, only a few feet separating us, but she still made no motion to even look at me. She just stood there, slouched over and miserable, just as she had been. It was like she couldn’t see me. I waited, though I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for. Was I afraid of what would happen if I tried to make contact with her? What would happen if I reached out and touched her? I wasn’t sure.

  It wasn’t like me to be so uncertain, but there was something about her I found completely unnerving. Maybe it was the fact that I didn’t understand what she was or what she was capable of. Or maybe it was the darkness of the shadows spinning around her, moving through her. Maybe it was the weight of the air surrounding her.

  The only thing I knew for sure was that she was interested in Tobias Mathison’s house. And given that was the only information I had, I figured I’d use it to break the ice.

  “Hi, Rhea,” I said, but she didn’t so much as even glance up at me. “Did you want to discuss the Mathison house?”

  Still… nothing. I might as well have been invisible.

  If Rhea wasn’t a projection from another realm or a ghost, then I had to imagine she was something far more sinister. Maybe a banshee? They were the only spirits I could think of that were overcome with grief so palpable that a banshee’s cry would mean certain death for any who heard it. I could only hope Rhea wouldn’t start wailing.

  But, somehow, I didn’t think she was a banshee.

  I cleared my throat, but she still didn’t notice me.

  Touch her, I told myself. It’s the only way you’ll know for sure if she’s real or not—or if she’s spirit or…

  Just a figment of my imagination.

  I steeled myself and reached out to touch her shoulder, but she was suddenly gone.

  I jerked back and felt my heart ride up into my throat. She’d just been standing right there, in front of me, and in the span of a blink, she was gone. It was as though the air had simply swallowed her whole.

  I just stood there for a good few seconds as I fought to catch my breath. Once accomplished, I looked around, wondering if she’d suddenly pop up again. But, no, she was gone. I could tell because the heaviness in the air was now gone, too.

  You really are losing your marbles.

  No. She was here! I insisted. I know I saw her!

  I glanced back down at the EMF meter, and it was registering full tilt still, the red lights all present and accounted for. It was proof enough for me—proof that I hadn’t just imagined her. She’d been here.

  Had she slipped through the walls back into my office? Had she somehow floated past me and gone in through the front doors? I turned back toward the front of the building, moving as quickly as I could and hoping to catch sight of her standing in the lobby again, but I was stopped by the slightest sound of a shoe scuffing against the concrete behind me.

  I turned around to see Rhea rotating her foot on the ground as if squishing out the invisible cigarette she’d held earlier. The cigarette might not have been there, but her shoe was. How else could I have heard the noise of her putting the cigarette out?

  She looked up, and our eyes locked.

  Chapter Six

  “Who are you? Why are you here?” I said as I stormed toward the startled woman.

  An expression of shock and confusion crossed her face as she looked at me. It was almost like she was as shocked to see me now as I was when I’d first seen her. Yet I’d been standing in front of her for minutes!

  “Hey!” I said, all out of niceties. No, now I wanted to know what in the hell was going on and why she was acting like she couldn’t see me. “I know you can see me!” I yelled, even though I actually wasn’t sure she could.

  I started forward and made it halfway to her when Angelo suddenly appeared from around the corner and stepped between us. He stopped me with an outstretched hand, his brows furrowed tightly together in obvious disapproval.

  “Fifi! What are you doing?” he asked, looking from me to Rhea. But Rhea’s eyes never left mine.

  I froze, dead in my tracks, and looked at him as he turned from me and looked at her—looked right at her! And that could only mean one thing.

  “You can see her,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  I cleared my throat. “Can you see her?”

  “What kind of stupid question is that?” he snapped, frowning at me like I was some kind of moron.

  “It’s not a stupid question,” I replied, suddenly feeling so frustrated I wanted to hit him. “It’s an important one! The woman I was talking to just now,” I repeated on an exhale. “Can. You. See. Her?”

  “You mean the woman you were just yelling at?” he demanded, eyebrows furrowed and expression pinched. “Of course, I can see her, you nut,” he said, rolling his eyes. “She’s standing right in front of us. Why in blazes wouldn’t I be able to see her?”

  “Because she isn’t really there,” I insisted, exasperated with his exasperation.

  “Have you finally lost your last marble?” he asked, glaring at me as he crossed his arms against his expansive chest.

  “Maybe,” I started, but he interrupted me by narrowing his eyes and studying me like I was a specimen on a microscope slide.

  “When was the last time you fed?”

  “I’m not hallucinating!” I yelled at him, irritated to all hell that everyone immediately blamed whatever condition I currently had on my feeding schedule. I cleared my throat as I started to wonder if they were right. But, no, they weren’t right and proof was in my awful brother—an awful brother who could see the ghost woman!

  “I don’t know what you’re carrying on about,” he continued. “But there’s a woman standing right there,” he said, pointing at Rhea, “looking at both of us as if we’ve gone mad and no wonder, because it appears that’s exactly what’s just happened to you.”

  I couldn’t say I was ever particularly happy to be in the company of my brother, but I was beyond ecstatic he was here now. Only because he could see Rhea.

  “What is she wearing?” I whispered.

  Angelo raised his eyebrows at me. “Fifi,” he started.

  “No!” I interrupted as I held up a hand and he momentarily swallowed his own surprise. It wasn’t exactly normal for me to lose my temper and that’s exactly what was happening at the moment. Of course, it also wasn’t normal for me to see people who weren’t there. “What is she wearing?”

  I wasn’t sure why Rhea’s outfit mattered so much—if only to make sure I was seeing her in exactly the same way my brother was. I just needed—confirmation, acceptance, proof that I wasn’t losing my last marble.

  He glanced over at her noncommittally. “Yellow blouse and a long skirt.” Then he took a deep breath. “You’ve really lost it this time, sister.”

  I held the EMF meter out towards him to make sure he could see it clearly. He looked at the device, which was no longer flashing but displaying a bright angry red color, now that I was so close to Rhea, to the spirit.

  “What the hell’s that?” he demanded.

  “An EMF meter.”

  He glared at me. “I’ll repeat my question: what the hell’s that?”

  “A device that senses ghosts,” I answered.

  “And explain to me why it’s beeping red.”

  “Because she’s a ghost!” I gasped as I motioned to Rhea.

  He frowned at me again. “So what if she’s a ghost?” he asked, acting like he’d known she was ectoplasmic all along. “What in the blazes has got you so upset by that? We’ve seen ghosts before. We live in a Hollow for hell’s sake.”

  “Yes, but no one else can see her—at least no one in the office can,” I quickly added as soon as it appeared he was going to point out the fact that he’d seen her—a fact I was still cherishing.

  “Explain,” he said on an uninterested sigh.

  “She came into the office yesterday and waited in the lobby and no one could see her—Glenn actually walked right past her. Then, understandably frustrated, she came into my office and sat down and we started talking. Meanwhile, Bea was convinced I was talking to myself because she couldn’t see Rhea either.”

  “Hmm,” Angelo said. “Strange because as a fairy—”

  “She can see spirits,” I interrupted him.

  He nodded. “Then what happened?”

  “Then Bea came in the office, told me I was having a conversation with no one and Rhea disappeared into thin air.”

  “Ghosts tend to do that.”

  “This is the first time I’ve seen her since then,” I ground out, not about to allow him to derail my explanation, especially after he’d just asked me for it. “So, I ask: why are you and I the only ones who can see her? And how and why is she masking her presence from other supernaturals in the office?”

  Angelo turned to look at the woman. She’d recovered from what seemed to be initial shock and was now making her way toward us. Once again, I locked eyes with her for a moment and it seemed to rankle her because she suddenly charged forward, grabbing the front of my shirt in her small fists.

  “Ah!” I yelled, taken aback, but then I took note of her frightened eyes, which were quickly filling with tears, and I calmed down. She wasn’t going to hurt me, I didn’t think. Well, actually, I wasn’t even sure if ghosts could hurt people or succubi, as the case may be. I’d never been haunted before.

  Just as before, that shadow of depression vacillated around her, pushing against me and making me feel suddenly nauseous.

  “You have to understand!” she said, pleading with me. “I have to find him,” she ground out, still grasping my shirt as her eyes went even wider. “He doesn’t understand and… he needs to understand!”

  She spoke hurriedly, her voice little more than a high-pitched cry that sounded like it was coming from a great distance despite her standing right in front of my face. Yet, it sounded like she was talking to me from a long-distance landline.

  For a ghost, she was surprisingly strong as she desperately tugged at my shirt. Once again, I could feel her fingers, feel the strength in her tensile grip. I could feel her breath on my face. I could smell her perfume, a frail mix of rosemary and lemon. I could feel the anguish bleeding off her as she begged for help about something I didn’t understand.

  I wasn’t sure what to say, but luckily Angelo took the need away from me.

  He stepped towards the two of us.

  “Who do you have to find?” he asked, but she ignored him, as if he wasn’t even there. It made me wonder if maybe she could see me, but not him.

  “He doesn’t understand,” she continued in that wavering voice that sounded as if it were traveling through miles and miles of telephone wire. Her eyes never left mine, and I could see her shadows swirling around my brother. “He doesn’t understand,” she said again.

  “And it seems he’s not the only one,” Angelo added as I frowned at him.

  “It’s so cold and lonely here,” she continued, shaking her head. “I just want to go home. I just want to be with him.” Then she appeared to shake off her misery and her eyes honed in on mine again. “Help me.”

  Now that the initial shock of her grabbing me had worn off, I found myself wondering how she was able to even do so. I’d never heard of a spirit that could interact with the other side in a physical sense—well, other than being able to throw things, open cupboards, and turn on lights. But, being able to grasp someone’s shirt in a death grip?

  I’d have to ask Marty about this and whether he’d ever had a ghost reach out and touch him. Maybe he had. But, from what he’d told me, I thought ghosts became insubstantial when they interacted with solid matter—that they simply passed right through it. And it was supposed to take an incredible amount of energy for them to show themselves in the first place. So how was Rhea appearing to me now and touching me with what appeared to be no extreme attempt on her end?

  Yes, I could definitely feel her skin touching mine. It was cold, but otherwise felt like anyone else’s.

  “Tell me what you mean, Rhea,” I said in a softer voice, wanting to help her, though I wasn’t sure how. “I want to help you, but I need to understand what’s happened to you.”

  Rhea suddenly let go of me, her hands flying away from my shirt as if it had sprouted flames and burned her. She pressed her palms against her temples like she’d just been hit with the mother of all headaches. I watched as she moved her palms downward and pressed her fingers on either side of her skull, her face screwed into a mask of agony.

  “There’s just emptiness… and ache now,” she said.