Page 6 of The Grave Robber

“What’s going on?” I asked, hating myself for it. I was the lastperson on Earth who could help someone. Most of my attempts at heroism failed.Miserably. This would be no different. “And what does my particular set ofskills,” I continued, managing to keep a straight face, “have to do with it?”

“If I were saying this to anyone else…” Jason began butpaused, so I turned back to him. He tapped an irregular rhythm on the table—hisnervous tic—before trying again. “She’s being haunted.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Has been since she was a kid.”

“Are you punking me right now? Because I swear to God—”

He held up a hand to stop me. “I know how it sounds. Butyou, of all people, should understand.”

“I of all people?” I resisted the urge to grind my teeth todust.

“Come on, man.” He collapsed against the back of his chair.“You know about this shit. You can see things others can’t.”

I released a long breath and stated a simple fact. “She’snot being haunted.”

“I didn’t think so at first either.”

“She’s not being haunted,” I reiterated.

“I’ve seen the evidence. There’s no other way to explainit.”

“She’s not being haunted,” I said yet again, dropping myvoice to a dangerous level.

“Why?” he shouted, alarming everyone around us.

Betty looked over in concern.

He shook his head at her, but he also caught the blonde’sattention. She looked up from her book, a delicate line forming between herbrows as she tried to figure out what was going on.

I turned my back to her and ducked my head, hoping to avoidher wrath. She was like a demon in sheep’s clothing. I scowled at Jason.

“Why?” Jason asked, softer this time.

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“What do you mean?”

I rubbed my eyes with one hand—it had been a long twodays—and refocused on him, wrangling my patience and putting it to good use. Itwasn’t Jason’s fault that he didn’t understand my fucked-up world. Few of thepopulace did. “I’m not saying people can’t be haunted. Departed are pretty mucheverywhere, and poltergeists are straight-up assholes, but the departed don’tgenerally fuck with the living. Most of them couldn’t even if they wanted to.”I didn’t mention the fact that poltergeists pretty much lived—metaphorically—tofuck with the living. Mostly, because the odds of her having an actualpoltergeist were astronomical. When he frowned, trying to process my meaning, Iexplained further. “Whatever is going on with her, it’s most likely notsupernatural.”

After all, I’d seen her temper. She’d proven her stabilityissues to me only an hour earlier. Not that one thing couldn’t lead to anotheror vice versa. Could her genuinely being haunted lead to other problems? Adecline in physical and mental well-being? Of course. It just wasn’t likely.Most often, the person was delusional to begin with.

It was nothing to be ashamed of. I knew more about mentaldisorders than most. I also knew more about the paranormal underworld thanmost, hence my plan to run for the border.

“I saw a video,” Jason said as if that cleared everythingright up.

“Because those can’t be manipulated.”

“Dude.” He scrubbed his face and growled in frustration.“Why would she even do that?”

“You forget, I’ve seen her Jekyll and Hyde routine.”

“Yes, but why?” he pleaded. “What would she have to gain?She lost her shit when she found out I’d seen the video.”

I nodded. “That, I can believe.”

He jolted forward, hope alight in his eyes. “You believe meabout the ghost?”

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