Perception (Apparition Investigations #1)

Case #1: Villanova Apartments: Part 3

My hands tightened on the steering wheel. I stared through the windshield, up to the third story window on the end. My window. My apartment.

I had picked out the curtains in those windows. I'd color coordinated them with the rest of the apartment. Bronte and I had spent nearly a week debating about what color to get, what fabric, what kind of curtain rod to put up. I'd felt so proud as I installed them. It'd been an adult thing to do-getting curtains for your windows.

There wasn't, however, anything adult about hiding in your car while ghosts fought in your apartment.

Or maybe it was. I didn't have much precedent to work with here. But I didn't feel grown up. I felt like hiding under the covers.

Only my blankets were in the haunted apartment. Where a supernatural death match was happening, judging from the growling I'd heard. And the gentle push that had warned me to leave.

God, that hadn't sounded human. Hadn't even sounded animalistic, truthfully. But like something in between. Or maybe something completely different altogether-something new and terrifying and presently in the vicinity of my very comforting Legend of Zelda blanket.

I'd never been so immediately afraid, hearing a sound before. But I'd cycled through all the clichés in less than a second: frozen body, spine tingling, hair standing up on the back of my neck, goose bumps rising.

Someone rapped their knuckles against the passenger side window and I screamed. A full-blown, Gothic heroine scream.

Bronte's brows knit in concern and she mimed for me to unlock the door.

My hands shook as I did.

"What happened?" She climbed into the passenger seat, pushing aside my discarded scarf as she did. "Everything ok? What are you doing down here?"

"We can't go up into the apartment." My voice shook, confusing the words. I lowered my voice and whispered it again. "We cannot go up into that apartment."

She glanced out and up through the windshield. "Is someone in there or something?"

"Or something."

She cast me a curious look. "Have you called 911?"

"No. They wouldn't-no."

"Are they-is it maintenance up there? Did they spook you like when they fixed the dead bolt?"

I shook my head.

Frowning, she gave me a minute to answer. When I didn't, her hand moved toward the door handle.

"No!" I shouted, lunging across the seat. I yanked the door shut and slammed down on the lock button. "You cannot go up there."

She let out an exasperated sigh. "You aren't making sense, Stella. If maintenance is up in the apartment, I'm sure they won't mind if we go up there. We do live there, and pay for it, and-what?"

I closed my eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose, and leaned back into the seat. "It's haunted."

"It's what?"

My eyes flew open and I jammed a finger in the direction of our apartment. "There's something up there Bronte. You remember the other night? When we talked about the shivers and you kept thinking you'd see me in the corner of your eye? I didn't tell you then but sometimes I hear stuff. Voices."

"It is an apartment," she reasoned, "so thin walls?"

"Not thin walls. I know when I'm hearing a voice through thin walls. These voices are close. Like in-the-same-room-close. Ghost-close."