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“Have you ever talked to him?” My forehead broke out in a sweat. Jack might have someone to tell about my snooping. What if he’d appeared to Michael, too?
“No,” Jack said, his eyes growing wide. “Only you.”
“Good.” I hadn’t realized rips could pick when to reveal themselves. I’d have to ask Michael about that later. “Seen anything interesting?” I prodded.
“Such as?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged it off. “Who he talks to, what he does?”
“He seems to type on that a lot.” Jack pointed to the computer with one hand, leaving the other behind his back. He then pointed toward the portable phone on the desk. “And he speaks to someone on that quite frequently.”
“Have you heard him say any names?”
“I’ve heard him mention you a few times.” Jack said the words carefully, watching me, as if he was weighing my reaction.
“My name?” I asked. “In what context?”
“Just that you were nice … no”—he stopped, considering—“you were coming along nicely … and that all was going according to plan.”
I turned to stalk blindly out of the bedroom, angry with myself for being hurt by his words.
“Where are you going?” He followed close behind me.
“None of your business.” I stopped. I had no reason to be so rude to him. I turned back around to apologize, catching him off guard. He sidestepped to avoid the bedside table.
I froze.
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked.
I took a hesitant step toward him. “Why do you avoid solid objects? I’ve noticed it before, but it didn’t sink in.”
“I don’t avoid anything,” he answered, stepping fluidly away from me.
“But you do. Except for the other night, you were sitting on my bed—I felt your weight pushing down my mattress. How did you do that? And why are you always holding your hands together that way, like you’re afraid to touch anything?”
“I’m not afraid,” he protested, pulling his hands apart quickly, dropping one to his side and tucking the other into his vest. “It’s simply a habit.”
“I don’t think so.” I took another step closer, lifting my hand and reaching gingerly toward his chest.
“Stop. Stay where you are,” he warned, his voice full of fear.
Squeezing my eyes shut and taking a deep breath, I moved forward to slide my hand through his form.
Chapter 19
I met resistance.
It wasn’t solid matter exactly, more like thick mud or wet sand. Jack twisted out of my way at the same time I jerked away from him.
“What the hell?” I looked at the traces of the substance on my hand. Whatever it was, it sort of … glowed.
When I looked up, Jack was gone. I got out of Michael’s apartment as quickly as possible, not even bothering to lock the door behind me. I had no idea what to do next.
Besides wash my hands.
Even though I was more than freaked out by Jack and his semisolid state, the address for the Hourglass was burning a hole in my pocket. I could be there in less than twenty minutes.
I had to risk it.
