The Mate Haunt

Chapter 2. Stalked By A Ghost

"Thinkin' about Em?" asked Jesse.

"I miss her," he didn't look away from the girl. "Even her obsessive ramblings about witches and ghosts and ghouls."

"He had to do it, you know," said Jesse. "Aaron didn't have a choice. Logan didn't answer, but Jesse didn't need to be told to get lost. He knew when Logan needed his solitude. Unfortunately for him, right now he was not alone. Once Jesse was out of earshot, she opened her mouth to speak but he could sense what she wanted to ask so he beat her to the punch.

"Em, short for Emilia. My twin sister. She... she's gone now."

"Emilia," she said it like she was tasting it on her tongue. "I've heard that name before."

"It's not an uncommon name," he said, rushing to another subject. "Tell me now. Why are you here?"

She gave a blank stare like he was stupid. "I don't know. I just woke up here."

"And you don't remember everything."

"My name," she shook her head, slumping deeper into the couch.

"Then listen to me. Em told me that newly dead spirits don't remember their lives so let me tell you what's happened. You died. You're a spirit now. If you want to live happily ever after in paradise, go cross into the white light." He left her there, mouth gaping, eyes full of anger and indignation. It didn't stop there. All day she wouldn't leave him alone. Not during training, or in town, or during his runs or even in the shower, though she did have the decency not to sneak a peek.

He thought she would yammer on that it was his responsibility to help her since he was the only one who could communicate with her, but she didn't. She disappeared as soon as he draped the covers over his body. He knew that this wasn't over though. This spirit was bent on getting her way...

Logan heard an incessant beeping noise, loud at first but it soon became muffled. A guy, roughly around his own age was being attacked by a werewolf, but this one was the mythical kind humans adopted. The one were a wolf stands erect with the human's skeletal structure. The guy had a bullet wound at his shoulder and held what looked like a silvered blade in his loose grasp. He ran to the guy to help, but suddenly a gunshot was fired. It blew the wolf-man's head off. Splattered it everywhere. He turned around to see ghost-girl. She had an iron colt in her grasp and wore dark clothing. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail. She looked pretty alive in this instance. It could be one of her memories when she was alive.

"Crap, Larry," said the girl. "Why do you always have to get the biggest son of a bitch, huh?"

The guy, Larry, was breathing deeply from being choked by the wolf-man, now dead on the floor. She helped Larry up to his feet and dusted him off. She then noticed his gunshot wound. "Did you shoot yourself?" she asked, half laughing.

"No, Lianna," he said, blushing dark red. "I slipped..."Now their two voice came muffled and the beeping grew even more louder until everything came to an abrupt silence.

Lianna felt his peaceful presence even before she opened her eyes. This time he was glowing green. His hair was all disheveled and there was a lazy smile on his face, which made her wonder what he was dreaming about. Was it love? She didn't know why but that made her want to laugh bitterly. The thought of love. She didn't really understand why. She had slept beside him when he was already sound asleep. Her presence unnerved him, she knew that much. She glanced at the clock-seven-thirty-four-and sat up, looking around the room. There was a sliding door, half open, revealing a walk in closet. Not far was a mahogany dresser, painted black with a round mirror on it along with other odds and ends. A television was on it along with a game console, a stereo, and a DVD player. The room was a little messy, but endeared her rather than repulsed her though. Wonder what his mother would say to such a sight.

She walked over to the dresser and looked over the odds and ends. A few hair products. A Swiss army knife. A few framed photos. Loose change. A closed sketch book. She outstretched her hand before she realized she couldn't even touch it, freezing her actions. I wish I could see what was inside.

Before she could even turn around and explore the rest of the room, the books hard cover swung open and the pages flipped like there was some freaky wind or something. She saw blue jay sketched on the paper with the name Logan Jackson scribbled in rushed cursive at the bottom. She traced the cursive of the letters , not actually touching the paper of course.

"How'd you do that?" said a half-sleepy guy named Logan.

"What?" she turned around, leaning against the dresser.

"The book. How'd you turn the pages?" He sat up, his eyes glazed with sleep.

"It was the wind." There was no window open so Logan looked like he had a hard time believing that.

"Whatever." He jumped out of bed and stretched. She could see the outline of his figure through his thin white t-shirt. It was more prominent than most. She deduced that he had to train nearly four times a day to obtain such a physique. It would have broken Lianna just after one of his "sprints".

"Like what you see?" he questioned with a teasing tone. She didn't exactly know what he meant by that so she just shrugged. "Listen. I have class today, so I don't need you stalking me."

Lianna frowned but didn't say anything. She watched him get ready in a loose t-shirt and shorts. He left with an overly packed book bag, waving a finger at her as he left. Even without knowing what it meant, she knew that it was some kind of insult at her. She watched him until he was out of eyeshot. This isn't over, Logan Jackson.
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The picture is Lianna