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    Ghosts
    Ghosts
    Ghosts
    Ebook82 pages1 hour

    Ghosts

    By Elisabeth Flaum

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A mysterious stranger rescues a young woman from a violent attack. But he's a mystery even to himself, with no memory of who he is or how he ended up in that dark alley. Nevertheless, she finds herself drawn to him, unaware that solving his mystery will force her to come to terms with her own past - a past she would much rather forget.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherElisabeth Flaum
    Release dateMay 10, 2015
    ISBN9781310269165
    Ghosts
    Author

    Elisabeth Flaum

    Elisabeth Flaum began writing fiction because of Doctor Who and hasn’t yet been able to stop. She lives in Portland, Oregon, where she works in accounting, races dragonboats, and writes poetry about weather.

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      Book preview

      Ghosts - Elisabeth Flaum

      Ghosts

      by Elisabeth Flaum

      Copyright 2015 by Elisabeth Flaum

      Smashwords Edition

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      CHAPTER 1

      In the pre-dawn chill the city slept.

      A white van, headlamps unlit, crept into a narrow alley. Out of sight of the road it drifted to a stop. Two burly men jumped out. They hauled a body from the back of the van, a thin figure in a blue suit and long brown raincoat, and dumped it atop a pile of trash. Brushing off their hands they returned to the van and drove away, a pale shadow in the murky night.

      Hours passed. The sky lightened to dusky gray, then darkened again with evening. The figure on the ground lay still. But his eyes behind their lids responded to the changing light; his chest rose and fell imperceptibly.

      As night fell, so did the rain. A shower became a downpour, then a deluge; the alley became a running river. The figure stirred, turning his face from the flood. Gradually he eased himself upright; then, leaning on the brick wall for support, he climbed to his feet. Brushing the water from his eyes he looked around again, but there was only blackness. And a sound...

      I looked up at the rain, falling in sheets from the pitch black sky. The street was as empty as the store had been all day, silent but for the downpour, still and peaceful as death. The bus stop on the corner mocked me from a distance. I set the burglar alarm and locked the door; then, with a deep breath, I pulled up my hood and ran. A wall of water pummeled me as I splashed across the street; soaked and panting I ducked into the shelter of the bus stop. The rain rattled on the plastic as if protesting the obstruction. I shook the water from my coat as best I could, and settled in for a cold wait.

      With a pop the streetlight went out. Blackness descended like a cocoon. I huddled inside my coat, all alone in the dark. It felt almost peaceful.

      Minutes ticked by. I strained my ears against the noise of the rain, listening for an approaching engine. Instead, the splash of footsteps drew nearer through the dark. I backed into a corner of the shelter, my heart pounding. Then a rough hand grabbed my arm, and the chill of a blade pressed against my throat.

      Let’s have it, you, a male voice hissed. Handbag. Now.

      Don’t have one, I stammered. Don’t carry money.

      The blade pressed harder against my skin. Phone then! Anything! Or do I have to cut you for it?

      Okay, okay! With trembling hands I dug my phone from my pocket and held it out away from my body. The blade vanished; then the phone slipped from my grasp and tumbled to the pavement. With a grunt of rage my captor slammed me head first into the wall. Pain stabbed through my skull; a cry escaped me as I crumpled to the ground, bright spots dancing before my eyes. Nearby my captor cursed under his breath as he searched the ground for his bounty.

      I beg your pardon. A pleasant voice called out over the pounding rain. Again my captor swore, and then the world filled with a blazing white light. I covered my eyes against the glare. Footsteps splattered in the rain. The light went out; there was a thud, a grunt, and a splash, and then silence.

      The streetlight chose that moment to flicker back to life.

      Are you all right? said the voice. It was a kind voice, a friendly voice, completely out of place on that sodden street corner. I withdrew my hands from my eyes to find a vision crouched before me: a water-logged wraith backlit by the streetlamp’s misty glow, a character out of a fairy tale. Thin and pale as a ghost, with a dewy halo of wild dark hair, he gazed at me with concern, as rainwater trickled down his face and dripped comically from his chin. I blinked hard, but he remained, intense dark eyes looking keenly into mine.

      Are you hurt? he said.

      My head, I murmured, dazed.

      Suddenly his hands were in my hair, gentle fingertips probing my skull. My stomach heaved. A strangled noise escaped my throat as I pushed him away.

      You should go to the hospital, he said.

      No! My head pounded and my heart began to race. With the wall’s help I struggled to my feet. I’ll be okay, really.

      Then let me take you home.

      I shook my head, instantly wishing I hadn’t. I’m all right, I said through my tears.

      You don’t look all right.

      What, are you a doctor?

      He blinked. I don’t think so. Why?

      I gaped. Don’t you know?

      He stared at me, confusion and fear following surprise across his face. As a matter of fact, I don’t.

      We stared at each other in bafflement for a long moment. Then a bus roared toward us, barreling down the street. It threw up a sheet of water that would have drenched us further if that were possible; instead, it passed without slowing and vanished around the corner.

      Bastard! I shrieked. That was the last bus!

      A gentle hand took my arm. Please let me see you home. I’ll get a cab.

      I jerked my arm free. I wasn’t lying to that creep. I don’t have any money.

      I do. He held out his hands in supplication. Please let me help.

      His face seemed so sincere, and his soaking-wet hair and clothes so comical; my defenses faltered, and I began to rationalize.

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