Midnight at the Salem Cafe by Elizabeth A Reeves

Author:Elizabeth A Reeves [Reeves, Elizabeth A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-02-24T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Lena hated this moment—the moment when people realized the truth about her. She hated seeing the way their eyes filled with speculation, or the way others tried to patronize her, oozing with pity and understanding that there was no way they could actually feel.

Strangely, it didn’t feel as awkward to tell Pete. Maybe it was because, after processing the information for a minute, he returned to being the same person she had met the night before.

“OK,” he said. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right. We’re not going to try to command a spirit or anything like that. We’re not going to harass him or her. They are people, and they deserve to be respected.”

Lena nodded. So far, she was on the same page as Pete. She hated it when she saw TV shows or read about people who hunted down spirits and tried to force them to do things. If she’d been a ghost herself, that would have pissed her off.

“All I’m going to do,” he said. “Is let the ghost—or ghosts—know that I am here, and invite them to tell me anything they want to share.” He smiled slightly. “I’m just visiting them, even if I still have a heartbeat, and they don’t.”

“That makes sense,” Lena said. She straightened up, her hands still buried deeply into Memphis’s thick coat for comfort. “Do you think we should offer them tea?” She smiled slightly.

Pete smiled back, his shoulders relaxing. “Probably not,” he said. “I think that would kind of be like offering someone on a diet chocolate cheesecake.”

Lena’s stomach rumbled. She ignored it.

“Do you need anything special?” She asked. “I’ve seen ghosts, of course, but usually that’s been them coming to me, or just seeing them as they walk around. Only a couple have spoken to me, at least, that I’ve been able to hear. I think one ghost did try to talk to me, but she didn’t make a sound.”

Pete nodded as if he understood this. “It’s difficult for ghosts to make themselves heard,” he said. “I just happen to have a little… advantage, I guess you might say.” He hesitated, looking at Lena as if he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how she would accept it. “I’m a Sensitive,” he said, his eyes fixed on the bookshelf behind her. “I pick up on those signals that most people miss.” He glanced back at Lena. “When I was a kid,” he said, almost conversationally, though his fingers tapped a nervous staccato against his legs, “it was just being able to communicate with my brother—we were twins,” he explained.

Were? Lena wondered. But, she let Pete continue when he was ready.

“He died when we were almost thirteen,” he said, after a moment. “We were in an accident. We were broadsided by a drunk driver, and the car rolled.” He shook himself slightly. “My parents and Gabe were killed. My sister and I survived. I felt him die. It felt like… half of my soul was ripped away, leaving me raw and exposed.

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