HER STOMACH GROWLS, her middle vibrating against me. She shifts her arms until they’re around me, squeezing me against her. It’s like she wants to crawl inside me. A tremor rolls through her body then she stiffens slightly.

Weird.

Maybe I imagined it. It’s a real skill I have ... Making things up that aren’t real. My mouth twists. Besides, I don’t know how long I’ve been drifting in that blank space after good sex, my face tucked against the nape of Sophie’s neck. We’re still up against the cheap, RV cabinetry.

I hang onto her. I won’t let go until she makes me. I need her to feel real. I wonder if she knows that yet. I move my face away from her neck, sit a little straighter, but still keep our bodies in a tight embrace. She’s still rigid, but she doesn’t pull away. She’s a lifeline somehow.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Her voice is different, eerie somehow, but muffled against my chest. She asks it in the same way as my guys did when they were staring death in the face.

“What do you mean?” I swallow. Did she figure out that I see things?

“Do you see ghosts?” She squeezes me, but it feels more like pincers than the soft hug of a lover.

Something isn’t right... My thoughts slow down and shatter.

And then Jace knocks on the door of my reality. It’s like I can see him from the corner of my mind’s eye, peering through the sidelights. An unwanted guest, I can’t let him ruin our moment. He’s the ghost that’s followed me the longest. I settle my chin on the crown of Sophie’s head.

“I guess so,” I finally manage.

“I met one once.” A creak settles in the second syllable and fills all the rest of her words, the groan of ancient hinges. “She took something from me...”

“Oh?” A prickling of unease starts between my shoulder blades. It tickles my spine, the way it used to when my men were in danger. I fight a shiver. Jace bangs harder. I can’t tell if it’s my pulse pounding on my brain... or him. Which part is real?

He’s whole this time, slapping the window. Don’t do that, Jace. Go away.

“It’s not safe. She’s not who you think she is,” he bellows, his breath fogging the glass.

I scowl at the vision. What the fuck. Jace isn’t real. He isn’t there.

“Are you okay?” Through the glass, Jace mouths the words at me, but it’s not his voice.

“Are you okay?”

Jace isn’t speaking. It’s Sophie. Her words drag me back from the edge of the abyss. She’s holding me gently, carefully.

I’m breathing hard, not staring at anything, focused on nothing. I imagined it all. She’s clutched in my arms like she’s my floatation device, and I’m a drowning man.

But I am. I’m choking on a deluge of things I don’t understand. She doesn’t even know it.

I force myself to let go. “Sorry. Flashback.” It’s the best explanation I’ve got. The only one that makes any real sense.

She strokes my arms. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll get through it together.” Her earlier rigidity is gone. She’s back to her yielding, sunshine-smile self.

I like her best this way. I don’t think she understands how much. “Thanks.” It’s the only word I’ve got to sum up everything churning inside. Communication isn’t my strong suit.

“Hey, I think I left my purse back in the house. I’ve got appointments today that I can’t reschedule.” She’s self-conscious. “I didn’t... plan... I mean...”

I chuckle. “You didn’t plan on staying the night.” I move my palm over her back.

“I did...” She carefully draws out her words. “Just maybe not so soon.” She gives me a sheepish grin. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

I tug on her hand. “You could shower here and go naked.” Maybe the joke isn’t the right one, but she laughs anyway. The sound breaks the hold of the past, and I’m just me. Just Spencer, in this moment. “I bet they’d give you whatever you want.” I pull her against me. Hard. “I know I would.” I growl in her ear.

She hmmms appreciatively, her hand drifting over my crotch. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.” She sighs. “But I’ve got to go. My day is packed with meetings with bosses. They don’t like to reschedule, and I need my job.” She puckers her lips and leans up on her toes.

I can hear Jace yelling at me again, warning me about some unseen danger. Screw survivor guilt. I’m sorry, Jace, but I’m alive. I’m tired of being as good as dead.

I oblige and lower my mouth to hers. Her eyes sparkle, stars in the sky. She tastes as sweet as never waking up to regret the curse of life when all my men have gone. I steel myself against it.

I’m here. Luck of the draw. Winner of the game with rules I don’t understand.

Opening my mouth slightly, her tongue meets mine, and I cup the back of her head. I drink her in, savoring her effervescence.

I want to live.

Construction noises fade away. Sophie gives as long as I take, and I take my fill.

She breaks the kiss. “I don’t want to go, soldier boy.” She drags her fingers over my cheek. “I have to go.”

Finally, my arms empty as she moves away, and I can’t help but wonder what forever might be like. “You have strange magic in your soul, Sophie.”

She’s fixing her clothes again but raises an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She tucks her shirt in her pants.

“Forever used to scare me more than dying.”

Outside, the construction workers yell at one another. I wonder how much they heard. We weren’t... discreet.

She freezes, and her smile fades, replaced by a sickly snarl. Her cheeks drain of color. “Forever.” Something dark moves across her face, a shadow.

My blood chills. “Are you okay?” I take a step toward her. Every sense is heightened. The rock of the camper as I move, the cheap carpet underneath, the hum of the tiny fridge in the one-man kitchen.

Then it’s gone. “What was that?” Sophie lays a palm over her forehead and then puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what happened there. I was somewhere else.”

Darkness shades the corner of my vision. I turn my head, but it disappears when I look directly at it. I shake my head.

A trick of the light, made by the shadow of the guys working on the roof. I straighten my clothes and avoid meeting Sophie’s gaze. I’ve freaked her right the fuck out. I’m sure of it.

Sophie turns to the camper door, but it doesn’t budge. She glances back at me. “Is there a trick to it?” She moves out of the way.

“Let me try.” I jiggle the handle, but nothing happens. Slamming my shoulder against the flimsy fiberglass should do the trick. But when I do it, it doesn’t open.

Sophie whispers something under her breath.

“What’d you say?”

“My magic.” It’s that creepy voice again. She’s ridiculing me. It’s a punch to the gut, but confrontation won’t happen today. “Try it again,” she adds.

When I do, the door flies open like it’s spring-loaded. “No shit.”

She slips past me, her body rigid. She takes the first step down and then the second until she’s on the ground. She walks as though all her joints hurt.

On top of the manor, somebody yells something in Creole. I don’t understand a word of it, but I glance up, expecting to see an emergency. One of the guys stands at the rear corner of the roof, pointing toward the front of the house. Twenty other guys stand up, slowly.

My nostrils flare. No birds sing. No bugs. No nothing. The air around us feels taught, a string pulled tight, the promise of ill on the wind. A hint of something...

A voice starts praying. Another starts chanting.

“What is it?” I call up to him.

“Look, boss,” he answers.

I can’t see what he means. Not from the camper exit. I step out, careful to make sure my prosthetic is settled on the ground before lifting my other foot. I’ve taken a nasty tumble or two or four. “Sophie? Give me a minute? To... to say I’m sorry?”

Yet Sophie doesn’t stop. She’s stomping toward the house. Me and my big mouth. I have to catch her, apologize for even mentioning the word Forever.

“Oh my God,” a different guy exclaims.

“What are you staring at?” I have two issues. Crazy-assed employees and an angry woman. I can’t figure out which one to address first. I glance up.

Beneath the pointing man, a figure moves in the window. An ashen-faced woman. Gray skin and dark eyes. Sophie marches on. Shit.

Then I hear it. My mouth dries, and my muscles solidify. The flutter of a thousand wings, a stampede, but in the sky.

From in front of the house, an inky cloud lifts into the air, blotting out the sun, casting darkness over us all. Hundreds of black birds move as one mass. They should be calling, but they’re completely silent. The earth is quiet, everything and everyone holding their breath. The clouds circle over us. They hover over me, and iridescent feathers fall like malevolent, keratin snow. Above me, grown men drop to their knees with their hands clasped, begging some absent deity to intervene.

Gaping, my mouth falls open. That’s all I’ve got. My weapon is useless, and I have no prayer to ward off the manifestation.

This time, it’s not just me. They all see it. What the hell is happening?

Then as one, they caw, only once, but loud enough to shake the limbs of the sassafras trees in the backyard.

My knees quake. Holy fuckballs.

It can’t get any fucking weirder. Except ... I study Sophie’s back. She hasn’t stopped or even looked up. She slips into the rear door that leads into the kitchen.

A murder of crows. A conspiracy of ravens.

I’ve seen a lot of shit in my lifetime, but that is the creepiest fucking thing I’ve ever encountered.

And the woman I just slept with doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest. I can’t figure out if it’s a New Orleans thing. And the ghost thing. Who the hell is she?

Jace is banging against my brain again, screaming at me. I shake my head and then pinch the bridge of my nose. Nothing. I’ve got nothing but a dry throat.

Metal poles rattle, banging against each other. Men are climbing down the scaffolds, watching the skies as they sprint toward the parking area.

The foreman is the only one that approaches. He halts in front of me. He tugs the cap from his head and twists it between his two, calloused hands. “It’s bad juju, boss.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What?”

He winces. “We’re takin’ the rest of the day off and ...”

Another shadow passes in front of a window. Long, dark hair, gray skin, lips peeled back in a snarl. She’s moving from window to window, toward the kitchen. I turn back to the contractor.

“Hey,” I say. “You saw the birds, right?”

“Yeah.” He bites his bottom lip.

I point at the window behind him. “Do you see that?” The figure is still moving across the bank of windows, her hand outstretched and her lips peeled back.

He spins around and then startles. He mutters, but all I can make out is, “Jesus.” He spins back. “See what?” He’s squeaky-speaking.  “Is it okay if we take...”

I raise my hand to stop him from saying anything else. “Whatever you think. Call me with an update in the morning.”

He looks relieved, but he doesn’t stick around to say anything else. He crams the hat back on his head and sprints away. He hops in the last car, and it peels out as it leaves.

What the hell is inside my house with Sophie?

I don’t have time to deal with the superstitious bullshit about the birds. It was a rare, but natural phenomenon. It had to be. However, the way the guy reacted to the figure in the house meant he probably saw the woman through the windows.

For the second time in twenty minutes, a tremble works through my body. My mouth is bone dry, as bad as the Afghan desert. I want to grill him, with a metal table, bright lights, and the whole setup, but I can’t afford to piss off the only guy who was willing to work on the mansion in the first place.

I turn back to the house. It’s fine. I don’t have time to chitchat or demand an explanation anyway.

There’s a crash inside. Hesitation is for cowards. The drill sergeant’s words pound in my brain.

I’m the cavalry.

I’m the last line of defense.

My girlfriend sees ghosts, and I think I’ve got one in my fucking house.

I sprint toward the kitchen door, swallowing the bile that’s found its way to the back of my throat.