Perception (Apparition Investigations #1)

Case #2: Hell's Gate: Part 1

"You know, the last thing I expected was being invited to dinner," I said, sliding into the booth seat opposite of Rose and Noah. "With, you know, both of you."

They sat close to one another, Noah's arm slung over Rose's shoulders. I'd been surprised when she'd mentioned he would be joining us for dinner. We weren't each other's favorite people to begin with, so the only reason I could think of him voluntary eating a meal with me would be because of Rose.

Judging from her satisfied smile and his inability to meet my eye, I guessed I wasn't far off.

It'd been a week since I'd seen Noah. A week since Nathan Elgin had attacked us in our apartment. And he'd fled, leaving me, Bronte, Cyril, and Oliver with a serial killer turned psychotic ghost-monster.

Good times.

"We thought it would be a good idea to bury the hatchet," Rose said, her smile practically blinding. The girl was positively pleased as punch to have us both here.

Noah didn't say anything, so I didn't either.

She looked between us, her smile faltering.

Then the waiter made a pass, sparing us a reprieve from awkward silence.

Rose cleared her throat after he left. "Um, Stella, the new EMF reader came in the today. I'd like to try it out, if you don't mind."

Not surprising. Every day last week, she'd shown up at the apartment with some new ghost gadget to check out. The last three EMF readers she'd bought hadn't worked. Not even when she'd held them right in front of where Cyril and Oliver stood. Hovered. Floated. Whatever ghosts did.

"Yeah, I'll run it by them and see if they're up for it. I'm sure they would be, though."

"Glad to hear it."

I nodded and reached for my drink. Swirling the straw, I kept my eyes locked on it as I asked. "And how's Bronte doing?"

They both readjusted in their seats. I kept my eyes down, on the glass.

"She's good," Rose said, her voice squeaking. She cleared her throat and tried again. "She's good."

"Glad to hear it."

I hadn't seen her in the previous week either. Honestly, I was a bit upset I'd seen Noah before I'd seen my roommate. In my mind, hell would have frozen over before I voluntarily agreed to dinner with Noah Walker.

So if the impossible had happened before my roommate had felt comfortable coming back into our apartment, what did that mean?

I couldn't blame her for keeping her distance. Elgin's attack had scarred her the most. Ok, well, I was the one with the physical scars from that little confrontation, but Bronte had suffered the most mentally and emotionally.

She'd been the one forced to witness his life on fast-forward. To see him murdering innocent women, slashed to pieces, watching from his point of view. To feel the knife's handle in her hands. To hear the screaming.

I shuddered.

No wonder Bronte avoided the apartment like the plague. And anything that reminded her of ghosts and psychics—Cyril, Oliver...me.

The waiter made another pass, dropping off our drinks and a bread basket. He left, though, before we could put our order in. And silence lapsed again.