Page 59 of Haunted Hearts

The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I stare at the unsuspecting building.

Tootsie looks right through me. She has been giving me the cold shoulder ever since I showed up to join the search party.Shehasn’t been so quick to forgive me for my absence. Apparently, finding my mate isn’t an excuse to stay away for as long as I have.

“Alright, let’s spread out and maybe we’ll get a feel on where he might be or where he went,” she says to the four of us.

“Wait, hold on,” I jump ahead of the small crew that’s gathered and spread my arms out on either side of me to block them from entering the hotel. “You have to be careful here, ok?”

“Want to share why you think that we should be worried about what traps the living could lay for other living individuals?” Caveman asks beside me.

“He’s been out of the game for a while, he’s forgotten he’s dead,” Tootsie grumbles as she moves to step around me, while still refusing to look at me.

“I haven’t forgotten.” I tamper down my urge to glare at her. “Just… I need you to be careful. If you feel anything weird, don’t investigate it alone, ok?”

“What are you talking about?” Arty, a shorter guy with pinkish skin, white brows, and long dark hair that he ties back, asks as he shuffles closer to us. “What do you mean by ‘feel anything weird’?”

“Don’t entertain his weirdness, Arty.” Tootsie pushes my hand out of the way and walks towards the building without a backwards glance.

Hasn’t the Ward told them about Fulton yet? I know that the Ward knows about the warlock, the conversations I’ve heard at Death’s house by the staff confirm as much. But judging by the lack of concern on my friends’ faces, I have a feeling they don’t know what’s been going on. Why wouldn’t the Ward tell reapers about the warlock on the loose? There has to be a reason. What it could be, I have no idea. But I’ll go along with keeping Fulton to myself since the Ward doesn’t seem to want anyone to know about him.

Besides, what if this has nothing to do with him? It could be just a coincidence that Remy went missing in this realm, the same realm that Fulton was from. And honestly, what are the chances Fulton made it back here? With so many realms within the Realm of the Living, and with no training on how to open a Veil to where you want to go, what’s the likelihood Fulton made it back to his realm?

Slim to none.

I let out a sigh. This is just paranoia. It has to be. “I’m just a bit skittish. Reapers were going missing just before the Veil closed, remember? And I don’t think I need to point out that none of the missing have returned. I just want us to be cautious, ok?”

Arty shrugs, “Alright, fair enough. I’ll be careful.”

I drop my hands so he and Caveman can follow Tootsie. My body turns and I find myself looking at the abandoned hotel.

There’s no way he’s here, I tell myself as I set my shoulders and I follow behind everyone.

Entering the building is easy. We simply walk through the doors like the spirits we are. Inside, the minimal furniture that still remains litters the foyer. The couch has holes, dust distorts the pattern on the chairs, and sun-bleached papers on the floor look like the cockroaches have succumbed to their ravenous ways. Beyond the foyer, the hallway splits into three different directions.

We split up, Tootsie taking the left hall, Caveman going right. I follow Arty down the hall that leads to the back of the hotel and towards the exit.

“I really hope he’s here somewhere,” Arty says as we take the stairs up to the second floor.

If this was the last place Remy was known to be at, why would he remain here, in this building, for five days? If he was reaping a spirit, he’d only be deployed if that spirit had hours remaining. Not days.

It’s possible that he opened the Veil to head to a different realm, I suppose. Maybe the spirit he was called to reap survived whatever had happened to it, and so he moved on, looking for wandering spirits to help cross over. He’s a good guy like that.

I open the door to the next floor and peak my head out before stepping aside to let Arty through. The stains on the walls and carpet promise that if we could smell, we’d be repulsed. Thankfully, some senses do not carry over to the Realm of the Living. It looks like kids have come and thrown parties in here. Old food, empty cups, and stuff splattered along the wall let me know the parties got wild.

Beside me Arty kicks an old soda can. “This place has definitely seen better days.”

Ignoring the always happy-go-lucky fairy, I peek my head through doors to peer inside the rooms.

“REMY! ARE YOU UP HERE?”Arty yells down the hall.

I pull my head back through a door and whirl around. “Sh!”

Arty rolls his blue eyes as he walks by me. “The Living can’t hear us, Brock, remember? Relax.”

He’s right. I’m being jumpy. Still, I can’t shake the unease that’s latched onto me.

I follow after my friend. When I get close, I grab Arty by the shoulder and force him to turn around to face me. “Arty, just… we need to proceed with caution. Ok?”

“What has gotten into you?” The shorter man searches for my face for something. He’s probably wondering if I’ve gone insane. I kind of feel like it. But my gut won’t settle.

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