Page 23 of Ghostridden
She chuckled. “You could say that. One’s been my constant companion for more years that I want to count.”
“Oh thank goodness,” I breathed.
“Honey, you wouldn’t say that if you knew Hootie. Sucker cheats at cards. Now, what can I do for you?”
“I inherited a house out in Ghost—”
“Oregon?”
“Yes. You know it?”
“Sure. That place is haunted as shit.”
I frowned, which probably came through in my tone. “But the people who live here say there’s never been a manifestation.”
“That’s because that bonehead, Thaddeus Richdale, pissed off every spirit within a hundred-mile radius. Ghosts can carry a grudge for a long-ass time, seeing as they’re not bound by details like mortality. You saying there’s finally been a sighting? Where? At the Manor? That’s the last place I’d expect something to happen, not with that lousy seance room smack in the middle of it, disrupting the etheric resonance.”
“No. Not there. At… at my house. It’s across the road from the estate.”
“Hmmm.” I heard the sound of a match striking. “Sounds like someone’s thumbing their nose at old Richdale, doesn’t it? On his very doorstep yet not crossing the threshold. The ghostly equivalent of egging his house.”
“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure it has anything to do with Richdale.”
“Sweetheart, in Ghost,everythingcomes back to Richdale, one way or another. But never mind him. What happened?”
I told her about the library and about the typewriter message. She whistled.
“Both gross and fine psychokinetic forceplusunambiguous direct writing? Holy shit, kid, you’ve hit the trifecta.”
“I don’t know about the unambiguous part,” I grumbled. “So, um, what does it mean when you actuallyseea ghost? I mean a transparent entity.”
“Physical manifestation?” Her words were muffled, probably because she was speaking around a cigarette clenched in her teeth, but her excitement was evident. “Amorphous mist or discernable orbs?”
“Neither.”
“Flashing lights? Unexplained shadows?”
“Nope. He looked like any guy at a coffee shop or the grocery. Except I could see through him.”
She sucked in a breath and started coughing, so it was a while before she wheezed, “You mean a full body apparition?”
“I guess? If that means there was a transparent guy in my kitchen, making rude comments about a manuscript. Not that I could blame him. The manuscript sucked.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Hespoketo you?”
“Yeah. Why? Is that unusual? Doesn’t your ghost, uh, speak?”
“Speak, yes, although only to me and not with actual words. He can manipulate objects too, but he’s never been visible, not even to me. Has anybody else seen this ghost?”
“My cat seems to be able to detect him. But a friend came over while the ghost was, um, commenting on the document, and he didn’t spot anything unusual. Why can I see him but he couldn’t?”
“Hard to tell. Could be several reasons. Maybe he considers you a kindred spirit. Maybe he thinks you can do something for him. Maybe you’re simply in a place he considers his.”
“Well, he did say it was his house.”
“That might do it. Territoriality. Confluence of ownership.”
“But why do ghosts show up in the first place?”
