Lead Me Astray

Chapter 4

Aurie

August 10 | Two a.m.

I considered discounting all the Supernatural stuff. Angels, demons, vampires? It was too much to accept—especially the part about me being a ghost—but whether I wanted to or not, death was making me a believer.

When I tried opening the ornate hand-carved door, my hand went through it. Would I go through everything I touched?

Entertained, Mys reached around me and turned the latch. I realized as soon as I entered the building that there was something off about the basement studio. For one, New Orleans was below sea level, making a subterranean unit impossible. And yet, the studio was clearly beneath the cathedral, even though there were high windows in the apartment that weren't visible from outside. Magic?

I took in the view with interest. A sleek, modern kitchenette lined the side wall to my left, separated from the rest of the room by a marble island. Only one barstool. Across from the kitchen, there was a comfy leather couch before a bookshelf and a mounted TV. Along the far wall was a full-sized metal bed frame dressed in a white duvet.

It was a fascinating space that revealed a lot about my new friend here. The palette was neutral and the décor minimalist. Somewhat stark, but Zen.

"Make yourself at home," said Mys.

"Easier said than done."

Mys guided me to the couch. "You can't impact the real world—like opening doors or moving objects—but sitting on the couch won't change anything. You can do that without a problem, Yōkai."

"In other words, if it shouldn't be moving on its own, I can't move it. Like . . . Newton's second law, but for ghosts?" Mys nodded. "Got it. What's a yoke—"

"Yōkai? It's Japanese for pesky spirit."

"Wow. Thanks." I pouted.

Mys flashed a devilish grin that, surprisingly, stirred the butterflies in my tummy. "The kanji, or characters, making up the word actually express something like beguiling and ghost. I hope you don't mind. I tend to give pet names."

"Weird flex, but okay. I like my Japanese pet name."

"Mm-hmm. It also preempts the question of where I'm from. The answer is New Orleans, by the way." Another grin. I smiled back shyly as I sank onto the leather couch.

As the psychic medium pattered around the kitchenette, my gaze wandered over them: tall, thin, dark-haired, dressed in a black lace tunic. Alluring, or whatever.

Mys kept up the small talk in a husky voice that was pleasant background noise. However, my thoughts turned inward and on how to get home. I tried to backtrack from my death, but my mind went blank when I tried to pin down any details. Hadn't I been out with someone? Focusing seemed impossible as my attention drifted again . . .

To the mysterious psychic whose presence was making me feel alive-ish. They brought over coffee. I reached for the mug. We both shied away as it dawned on me: I didn't need to eat or drink anymore, because alive-ish was still very dead.

"You're sleeping the eternal rest, Aurie. Try to adjust sooner rather than later," Mys chided, settling on the couch beside me. "You won't be a ghost forever."

"What do you mean? What else is there?"

"The longer you're here, the more you'll resemble raw energy expelled without rhyme or reason. Like, uh, a poltergeist."

I slumped at the idea that my situation could get worse. "Fan-fucking-tastic. How long do I have?"

"Mm? Time passes weirdly for the dead, since you're untethered," Mys said blithely. "I suggest you get your final good-byes and last hurrahs out of the way. Finish your unfinished business ASAP."