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Okay, to be fair, I did receive a lot of information about supposed “entity levels” and associated abilities, but sometimes what the instructor told us ended up contradicting itself or being open-ended. For instance, I could never get a straight answer as to why I can see ghosts now but others can’t—even when a ghost is in the same room with us both. Entities, it would seem, aren’t entirely consistent in their behaviors or how they manifest. I’ll admit, I kind of tuned out after that and just went through the motions, figuring I’d learn more out in the field than in their sorry excuse for a classroom.

I’ve always been more of a hands-on learner anyway.

My days as a DI are over, so working as a Spirit Extraction Specialist for ExorSquad, which amounts to being a private investigator into possible paranormal phenomena, is the new direction I’m taking for now.

I try not to grimace as I shift in my hard wooden chair to ease the discomfort in my fucked-up back and pull out my notepad. Some habits die hard.

“Why don’t you fill me in on the situation? Start from the beginning.”

Mimi leans closer, her voice getting quieter, as if she doesn’t want anyone else to hear. “At first, it was just small things—the lights flickering every now and then, temperature fluctuations in the main spin studio. Stuff like that, easy to write off. I brought in an electrician and had the thermostat checked, but everything was fine. We decided to ignore the little oddities.” She bites her bottom lip and looks away. “But then things… escalated.”

I pause in my scribbling and eye her sharply. “How so?”

Her right eye twitches and her mouth sets in a grim line. “First, one of the studio cycles malfunctioned and injured Tate, my best instructor and the one in charge of evening classes. Our cycles are brand-new machines, it shouldn’t have happened. Later, I had someone come out to examine Tate’s bike and they found nothing wrong with it. But…”

It’s my turn to lean closer. “What?”

She swallows. “According to Tate, and a few students I spoke with afterward who attended the class, it was like the bike was possessed or something. The pedals started going faster than humanly possible. Then poor Tate was basically ejected from the bike by some unseen force, one that flung him several feet in the air!” She shakes her head in dismay. “I didn’t want to believe it at first, but the accounts were all the same. And if it were a joke, those students wouldn’t have canceled their memberships in obvious fear. That’s when I realized there was something unnatural at work here.”

“What about CCTV footage?” I ask.

“That’s the thing.” She gulps and clutches her hands tightly. “They went on the fritz that night—but only during that class session and only in that room. They came right back online after everyone fled.”

A familiar tightening sensation in my gut, the one I always used to get when I knew I was on the trail of a criminal, tells me this job might be the real deal—unexplained paranormal phenomena.

“What happened next?”

Mimi sighs. “Thankfully, Tate’s injuries weren’t too serious—just some bruising and a sprained ankle—but he was spooked.” She arches an eyebrow. “No pun intended. He handed in his resignation and like I said, all the students in that class canceled their memberships.”

I nod slowly. “Not surprising. That would be unsettling to almost everyone.”

Mimi’s bottom lip trembles. “For a little while after that, things seemed to go back to normal, but the studio was getting some bad word of mouth from former members who’d left us in a hurry. I was struggling financially, but we hadn’t had anything like what happened to Tate.” Her face crumples. “Then odd things started happening again.”

I offer a grunt of commiseration.

“At first, it was small. People attending the evening classes started hearing strange knocking noises in the hallways, and one woman ran screaming out of the toilets, claiming she saw someone behind her in the mirror but no one was there when she turned around.” She rubs at her temples. “And for some bizarre reason, we can’t play our music tracks during evening classes either. Somehow, they always turn into”—she scrunches up her face—“old disco hits.”

I blink at her. “That’s unusual.”

But it also seems important, so I underline that in my notes.

“Look, I’m not one to judge people’s musical preferences, but my clients want contemporary songs with a beat that gets their blood pumping so they can enter the zone while they spin.”

“You’ve mentioned only the evening classes. Has any of this happened during the daytime?”

Mimi shakes her head. “No, thank goodness. Our morning classes haven’t had any issues. They’re the only thing keeping the business barely afloat right now.”

“And you’re certain it isn’t one of your employees pulling pranks?”

She frowns. “I checked, but there’s nothing that suggests any of my staff are behind this. If anything, I’m having a hell of a time keeping most of them. Even they’re starting to get freaked out by the whole situation. Only Brad is bull-headed enough to keep teaching an evening spin class.”

She slumps in her chair and suddenly looks a few years older than I initially pegged her. “We’re down to that one evening class now, after starting out with four, but I’m having to cancel it more often than not because we can’t get anyone to sign up anymore. It’s a prime time for us. People get off work and want to get a good workout in. Income from the day classes won’t keep the studio going for very long. I’ve got to be able to resume offering evening classes that clients will feel safe in and that won’t scare them off.”

“Is there a class happening tonight?”

Mimi shakes her head sadly. “No one signed up and I can’t afford to pay an instructor when there aren’t any students.”

“My recommendation for now would be to put the evening classes on temporary hiatus. To be on the safe side.”