Page 12 of Grave Humor

“Wait. You have invasive testing? Do you use locusts as part of your invasive testing?”

I bit my lip so I wouldn’t laugh. “She means poke or prod at me physically, Eoghan. The CDC is not an invasive species. Also, locusts?”

“Those were one of the more invasive pests of my youth. Annoying blighters, locusts. A swarm could destroy crops in matters of hours, leaving us all to starve. Cursing someone with a plague of locusts was, in my age, quite a foul thing to do, for it was a slow and agonizing death from starvation. As long as this testing is not harmful to you, I will tolerate it.”

We’d have to work on that. I expected life with Eoghan to create a great deal of trouble for me.

The ghosts were back.

I would’ve felt a little better about the situation if they hadn’t liked me. They congregated around my room, some lurking in the walls, some bold enough to manifest near my bedside. Time had reduced most to blurs and faint chills in the air.

An old woman occupied Eoghan’s chair, wearing the hospital gown she’d died in. “A piece of advice, dear. Don’t order the chicken.”

Great. Seeing the ghosts was one thing, but talking to them would earn me a one-way trip to the psych ward. I grunted to acknowledge her while contemplating if I could escape from the hospital. According to Eoghan, who meant serious business about keeping me safer than Fort Knox, Gordon would show up sometime after dark to act as my evening babysitter. It amazed me the CDC managed to keep Eoghan away, although I suspect they made a few implications about potentially impairing my health if he hovered while the doctors worked.

I’d seen that a few times in town. Overprotective men became easily manipulated men when it came to their women. It took subtlety and practice, but the women saddled with overprotective men had ways of taking back control. I regretted my lack of attention to their methods.

I would need every trick in the book within a week.

Making a bargain was one thing, but sticking around in the hospital to become a guinea pig for the CDC was another. I disliked the idea of becoming a gopher for an overprotective relic, but I would keep my word. However, Eoghan hadn’t told me I couldn’t leave the hospital. Best of all, I had new, clean clothes, and my purse was in easy reach. To aid in my escape efforts, the nurse had removed the IV’s catheter already. I got out of bed, grabbed my clothes, and ignored the ghosts watching me change.

Damned ghosts.

“The old one isn’t going to be happy if you leave. He asked us to stand watch while he’s gone,” the old woman announced. “You’ll anger him.”

My brows shot up at the implication Eoghan could also talk to ghosts. While various forms of undead were generally accepted in society, people had trouble believing in ghosts. Zombies? People could buy into the idea a corpse might get up and cause a fuss before burial. Vampires made their presence known and integrated into society. Mummies liked guarding things, and the devil’s heir tended to wake mummies up every time she visited a museum.

It amazed me museums let her in the door at the rate she caused trouble in the exhibits. Then again, the mummies did tend to guard the museums they occupied, making them highly desired.

But ghosts? Nope. For some unfathomable reason, people dug in their heels over the idea of ghosts being real.

Magic tended to explain away the incorporeal undead. The bumps in the night with no known source? They blamed kids discovering practitioner tricks for the first time. The cold chills in the air? Once again, practitioners took the blame.

Practitioners got blamed for a lot of things they didn’t do, although people were right to worry about those who mastered magic they hadn’t been born with. Sometimes, I thought about studying practitioner magic, despite its reputation.

It beat staying a nobody forever, and practitioners weren’t classified as vanilla humans.

The ghost watched me and waited.

As she’d probably haunt me if I didn’t answer her, I replied, “If he wanted me to stay here, he would have told me to stay here. As he hadn’t told me that, I think I’ll go home and enjoy my bed.”

“While this is true, it isn’t wise.” The ghost pointed at my wrapped arm, which hurt whenever I moved, but it would heal in time. I’d head to the doctor’s office near home to have it checked, get a prescription for an antibiotic I couldn’t afford to fill, and pretend like I had my shit together while I searched for a new job—or checked to see if Eoghan could actually afford minimum wage for whatever he needed me for.

I could work with minimum wage. I’d just have to eat salty noodles for the rest of my life.

“Why not? Experiencing new things is good. I’ve never escaped from a hospital before. What’s not wise about this?”

“You have no money in that purse of yours, nor do you have your keys. He swiped them after conferring with the vampire. Deterrents to keep you from leaving, I believe.”

I peeked into my purse to discover the antique had robbed me. Unfortunately for the antique, I had a spare key at the house I rented, and who needed an empty wallet anyway? It wasn’t like I could buy anything with money I didn’t have. The lack of identification would annoy me after a long sleep, but I figured Eoghan would be able to figure out where I lived with some help from Gordon or the CDC. “Mr. Arrogant Asshole needs to be knocked down a few pegs. First, I have a spare key. It is hidden somewhere safe and sound where I can readily retrieve it. Second, I think they’re serving chicken tomorrow, so you can tell the arrogant asshole this is an act of self-preservation.”

The old woman cackled. “There’s nothing wrong with running so a handsome man will chase you. He looks like he’d just love to catch you and have you for dinner.”

Great. I’d found a pervy ghost granny. “He’s not that handsome.”

“It’s a good thing we’re in a hospital, dearie. You are in dire need of an eye exam. I might be dead, but I’m not blind.”

“He’s older than you are.”