Page 57 of The Accidental Ghost

Forcing her eyes open, Ralph stopped struggling and fought not to gasp at the man sitting on top of her, holding her wrists with a grip of iron.

His eyes, deep brown and bloodshot, glared down at her as strings of his greasy hair slashed her face.

It came as no surprise that it was Michael Vorris. None at all.

“Let me go, Michael!” she hissed up in his face.

If he was surprised she knew him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he laughed, sucking at his teeth. “So you do remember me, Ms. Tucci.” He said it like she should know him, but the only thing she knew about him was that he’d murdered her.

“I remember you’re my killer,” she sneered right back, lifting her hips in an attempt to shove him off.

“Shit, Ms. Tucci. You really don’t remember-remember me, do you? You sure remembered me that night.”

She pushed against him, but he felt like a lump of lead. He didn’t budge. “That night? You mean the night you shot me?”

“I knew you didn’t mean what you said!” he cried, spit flying from his mouth and spraying her face.

What was he talking about?

She didn’t care what he was talking about. There was no point fighting with him. He looked strung out, even in his afterlife glow. “Let me go, Michael!”

He giggled, sticking his face in hers, his grin maniacal. “You know, Ms. Tucci, it’s kinda hot when you say my name. I mean, I didn’t think so all those years ago, I was too little, but now, it’s sssexy,” he lisped.

All those years ago? “Michael, let me go,” she demanded in as calm a voice as she could possibly summon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But that only made him angry again, and he expressed that by digging his knee into her ribs. “No, no, no,” he scolded in a singsong tone. “You’re not going to use that teacher’s voice on me. It won’t work this time.”

Licking her dry lips, letting her body go limp, she forced herself to slow down. “What do you want, Michael? Just tell me what you want!”

“I want you to take this half-dead geezer wherever he’s supposed to fucking go so I can take the rest of your power, then I’m gonna dump your drained ass in Hell and skip off to the fucking afterlife to take your place! Get it?”

Oh.

That’s what he wanted.

Was that how it worked? When she was crossing someone, he could steal her powers? Just snatch them away like stealing candy from a baby?

What kind of gig was this, anyway? No one mentioned fighting off madmen to keep her powers. This was what the big guys upstairs called an honor?

Yep. She’d rather clean toilets. Refund, please!

But won’t you fight for what’s rightfully yours, Ralph? Fight to do something you were always meant to do? Would you abandon the people who so desperately need you in their last hours?

There was that voice again, this time reminding her she was a coward, non-confrontational. A chickenshit glow stick.

Nothing had fulfilled her more than crossing Kat, finding Gloria. Never. Not even teaching, her first love. How could she even consider giving that up?

But fear is a powerful motivator.

The next words she spoke slipped out of her mouth before she was able to stop them. “Are you insane? How do you know you can do that?”

He dug his fingers deeper into her skin, making her bite her lip to keep from crying out as he pressed his clammy cheek to her lips. “Don’t you worry. I know what I’m doing, Ms. Tucci. A little demon taught me how. Now cross this old man and let’s get this shit moving!” he screamed into her face.

Too focused on Michael, Ralph hadn’t even looked at where she was. As her surroundings came into view, she saw they were in a bedroom, lying on a worn area rug. The place was dark and quiet, with only a small bedside lamp on the nightstand. The shades were drawn, and there were pairs of feet surrounding the legs of a bed.

That was all she could see, trapped on the floor the way she was. But the familiar pull of that gnawing need to offer safe harbor for someone whispered in her ear.

He needs you. He needs you now, Raphaela. Now!

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