Beneath

Chapter Ten:

I spread some butter and syrup over the top of my pancake pile, spearing a piece of maple sausage as Sam watched me, hands wrapped tightly around his third cup of coffee.

"You see dead people."

"I see whatever is left of their spirit right before they cross over to the other side."

"And tonight, you were talking to that woman's spirit?"

"I didn't know her in life, and I don't know her husband now. Can you come up with a better explanation for how I was able to find that note?"

"Beyond simply getting lucky in your grave-robbing side job?"

I stared at him over the rim of my cup as he did the same, eyes locked with mine. There wasn't much I could tell him without explaining everything, including all the Greek gods stuff, and that wasn't an option. I blinked, choosing another path forward.

"Hi, my name is Emma. I'm a Pisces with a moon in Sagittarius, I like long walks on the beach and in my free time I enjoy reading, writing, and talking to dead people. Did I forget anything?"

"I'm not sure whether I should report you to the police, or order another cup of coffee."

"I recommend the latter. The coffee is exceptionally good here."

"Look, it's not every day that your prospective girlfriend tells you that she's a psychic," he said.

"I can't read minds, Sam."

"Medium?"

"Sure, with one sugar, please," I bit back, realizing the lameness of the joke as it slipped past my lips. "I didn't tell you about the spirits to freak you out. That little favor Margaret asked for ended up taking longer than expected, and I understand that you have serious doubts about it, and, wait, girlfriend?"

"Prospective. I haven't decided if I want to ask you out on another date, or run screaming in the opposite direction."

Even with a smile, that stings.

"When you decide, let me know. I'm not going to pretend that tonight is the last time that I'll help a soul, because it happens every single day. If you're not okay with that, you might not want to ask."

He drummed his fingers on the table, eyeing me. "It's not that I don't want to believe you, Emma, but it's asking a lot - suspension of belief and all - and I'm an engineer. Our first instinct is to find a logical explanation for things that seem unexplainable."

"Have you found one for tonight?"

"Not yet, but give me time."

"The explanation doesn't exist, Sam, and even if you found one, I'd shoot it down and probably end up resenting you for even trying. I'm not going to apologize for who I am, or how I live my life, and you shouldn't expect that of me. I need to go home." I tossed my napkin on the table, gathering my things together as he reached out a hand to stop me.

"You're angry with me, aren't you?"

"No." I shook him off, slapping some cash to the tab before shrugging my coat on.

"You are, just admit it."

I felt a migraine forming, just like it did when...oh, no. I glanced across the restaurant towards the front door in time to see a skeletal figure headed my direction, and I clenched my keys until I felt the bite of metal in my palm.

I'd been careful, I'd sent everyone onward except...Mrs. Marsh.

Well, shit.

And when I didn't show up after my rendezvous with Margaret, she became...double shit!