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Most people think when a person passes that’s that. They’re gone and you need to move on with your life. But Grammy isn't gone. The best parts of her live on in my heart and my memory. I may not be able to hug her or see her anymore, but I know that she’s out there, her energy zipping about in the universe causing mischief and watching over me.

“He’s so kind and hot and he has such a nice voice and I feel all zippy and fizzy when he’s near.” I let out a sigh. “So, the way I see it I have two options. Admire him from afar and accidentally show him my weird and wonderful artwork then hide in my bedroom, or say ‘screw it’ and shoot my shot.”

Chapter 4

Gabriel

“Oh you gotta shoot your shot, baby!” Grammy yells, wrinkled hands cupped around her mouth.

Not that Brenna can hear her. No, I’m the only ass who can hear her. I still have no idea why the hell I let Grammy convince me to follow Brenna to the cemetery. And now I’m close enough to hear her thoughts about me and that zipping and fizzing? Yeah, she’s not the only one who has that going on.

Brenna’s light tinkling laugh rings like a bell through the tombstones, the sound at odds with the oppressive feeling here. You’d think I’d be used to it. This isn't the first time I’ve found myself stalking around here. I don’t know what it is about souls but they love to visit their final resting place.

“Isn’t she wonderful?” Grammy whispers, in awe of Brenna.

I peek out from my hiding place, my breath almost stolen by the sight of Brenna, her animated hands waving as she talks to the tomb Grammy’s earthly vessel is resting in. She glows. Not just the soul that’s attached to her. Just her. Her plump pink lips, wide blue eyes, her nose screws up a little as she speaks, laughter lines getting deeper as she throws her head back in laughter. Grammy is wrong. Brenna isn't just wonderful. She’s fucking magnificent.

My gaze is locked on her and then, as if in slow motion the soul that is attached so deeply within Brenna locks on to me and I feel it like a kick to the chest. The good feelings Brenna elicited are stolen away by a heaviness that is hard to describe.

“Fuck!” My hand goes to my chest and I will my legs to stumble back, but they’re locked in place by whatever the fuck is attached to Brenna.

“Gabriel?” Grammy’s voice sounds far away and I fight to turn my head to look at her but I’m trapped. Frozen.

The soul raises a finger and my gaze follows the direction until it lands on a man. Small. Peculiar. He holds himself awkwardly, as if in pain as he watches Brenna from his hiding place five tombs down.

“That motherfucker,” Grammy spits and it snaps me out of whatever hold I was in. “That’s the one I was telling you about. You need to protect Brenna from him.”

Lightness returns to my chest, my body freed and before I know it I’m rushing between the tombs. This type of behavior would send Miss Fanny into a fit. She was with me for years as a child until I could lay her soul to rest along with her body.

“Hey!” I bark out but the small man sees me coming.

Hard not to see a six foot something, large black man barreling down on you.

“What are you, a cop?” Grammy’s voice says, a little too close for comfort.

“Huh?”

“You just did what all bad cops do in the movies. Call out to the bad guy and then end up chasing them around and around.” Grammy looks down at her legs, “I was never this fast in real life you know.”

I dip and dodge between tombs, careful to watch my steps as the walkways are years old and as much as the New Orleans city council likes to say they keep things tidy, they really don’t. The pathways are craggy, the paving stones sitting unevenly. I watch as my target stumbles a little, but for a man who looks like he’s on his last legs, he manages to right himself and duck between two large family mausoleums.

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, pushing myself a little harder before he disappears for good.

In a place like this it's easy to hide. All it will take is me losing sight of him for a split second and I’ll be screwed.

“I think we’re screwed, kid,” Grammy says, slightly breathless.

I stare at her soul as she waves her hands at her face in an effort to cool down. “Grammy?”

“Yes?”

“Why the hell are you puffing? You know that souls can't run, right?”

She shrugs her narrow, pink clad shoulders. “The moment called for it, you know?”

I stare at her for a long moment, before shaking my head. “Come on. Let's go check on Brenna.

I wave at Grammy to follow me, as I quickly stomp my way back through the rows of tombs. After that weird shit with the soul and then chasing that little fucker who was watching Brenna, I need to get eyes on her. Not just because both Grammy and Kristie have asked me to keep an eye on her. But for some other deep-seated reason I don’t want to think too deeply about. My footsteps sound loud on the crumbling paving stones, only slowing when the rich tones of Brenna’s voice drift on the breeze to us.