Page 47 of Light As A Feather
“You both deserve better. Why stick around here arguing over a man who never loved you right, rather than escape the confines of mortality for good?” I attempt to reason.
The room falls silent; both spirits lost in thought. I don’t rush them.
“You know what, you’re right.” Ellie grips the railing tightly beneath her hands. “I’m done with this. I don’t want to spend my afterlife trapped here with just her.”
“Release yourself from all that holds you to this place.” I give her a moment to process. “Just let go.” A few seconds later, Ellie is no longer standing with us.
“What do you say?” I turn my attention to the other woman, hoping that she’ll make this easy and choose to vacate instead of me having to do the whole banishing spiel. Leaving the house without coffee is really starting to take a toll on me.
Her lips purse as she takes inventory of the home around her. “This used to be my home, but they ruined that for me. I thought I was living the dream.”
“It sounds like you really did get the shitty end of the deal. For that, I truly am sorry. But holding to your anger, to your hurt, and all the what-ifs of this place aren’t going to change the fact that you’re dead.” I approach the railing. “It’s time to choose, either you leave of your own volition, taking control back in your life, or I force you to leave.”
A few seconds pass, weighted with indecision, before she turns to me. “I’ll be damned if I ever let a man dictate what I do again.” With that final remark, she’s gone.
I didn’t expect to walk into decades-old marital drama, but still, that was one of the easiest jobs I’ve ever done. Now comes the much more difficult task of getting to the bottom of Ivan’s attachment and how we’re going to get rid of him for good.
It’s a short drive to the house with the oceanfront view. It’s Mendez’s house, but it’s also where we have our meetings. It’s the perfect place for hushed conversations concealed beneath the sound of rumbling waves and reinforced walls.
Walking through the heavy wood doors, I’m greeted by the man himself, Ozvaldo Mendez—serious businessman turned paranormal investigator who keeps our asses in line.
“Phantom,” he says by way of hello, intent on using our code names whenever it comes to official business.
“Jefe,” I salute in jest.
He rolls his eyes at the nickname we chose, not just because he’s our lead, but because it irritates him. “Can you ever be serious?”
“Can you ever chill out? I mean, come on, is that really necessary?” The whole nickname thing can be hard to take seriously. The whole reason we created them was for when we’re on a case and we don’t want entities holding power over our names. Not much risk of that here in his makeshift fortress.
“Just come inside.” Mendez shakes his head. “Do I even want to know what the hell you’ve brought to my doorstep?”
“I won’t lie to you, Oz, you’re not gonna like it…I don’t. But I need the team’s help.” I kick off my shoes, placing them by the others in a neat line by the door. “He’s unlike other entities that I’ve dealt with. This attachment is strong, man.”
We sit across from each other in the living room, and Ozzie lights up a joint. We both take a long drag before diving into the details.
“It’s been, like…” he counts on his fingers, “almost ten years. That’s gotta be a hell of an attachment. He definitely has some roots in her.”
“Longer,” I sigh. “Pretty sure it’s more like fifteen years or so.”
“Well, shit.” Ozzie leans back and crosses one foot over the other, one arm reaching across the back of the leather couch—his thinking posture, we like to call it. My eyes are drawn immediately to the matching snake and bone tattoo every member of Veiled Coast has–a reminder of the duality of mortality and how death has touched us all. “You were right to ask for help; you shouldn’t try to do it on your own. Something like that isn’t letting go easily.”
My nerves ratcheting up, I reject the joint when he attempts to pass it over again.
“I’m afraid, Oz.” We’ve been through enough together that I have no problem admitting it. “It’s so much worse than I thought.”
“What do you mean?”
“She says she invited him into her life. Says?—”
“Says what?”
“That she’s bound to him. That her afterlife belongs to him.” The words are bitter and wrong in my mouth like black licorice.
“That sounds…intimate.” He grimaces and puts out the joint. “So, it’s more than a simple spirit attachment?”
“Yeah. It has to be. It’s like—” I search for the words that fit. “It’s like he’s in love with her. No. Not in love with her but obsessed with her. With coveting her.” I bite my lip, debating whether or not to share more about what Sol told me. “He’s been watching her since we were in high school. He waited for her…earned her trust. He has a hold on her I don’t quite understand, but it’s deep enough for her to throw the whole life we planned together away. It’s bad enough for her to struggle and suffer for years to try to keep him away from me.”
“Away from you? Why would that matter?” His dark brows furrow.
