Hereafter

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Hereafter

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 by Joya Fields

ISBN: 978-1-61333-425-6

Cover art by Angela Anderson

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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Hereafter

Hauntings at Inner Harbor, Book 1

By

Joya Fields

~DEDICATION~

To my best friend, hero, and husband, Joe. With love and hugs to JT and Erica for their constant support, enthusiasm, and ideas. Special thanks to my critique partners at Maryland Romance Writers and Lethal Ladies. Kudos to my awesome Beta reader and friend, Christi Barth, and to Beth Jusino who helped me keep digging deeper into this story.

Chapter One

Rob jolted upright in his bed, wrenched out of sleep by the sound of weeping. He shook his head. Had he dreamed the sound?

Clad only in boxers, he stalked across the cold hardwood floor and paused with his hand on the doorknob. More quiet crying. The television? Maybe his apartment had thin walls. He exhaled and yanked the door open.

He brushed his hand along the living room wall; his finger flicked the light switch. Nothing. Tried it two more times. Same result. Damn. For two thousand dollars a month, he expected reliable electricity.

A muffled, female sob filled the room and his hand froze on the wall. A shiver sped down his spine. He expected to see the blue glow of the television, but the room was shrouded in darkness. Soft weeping followed by a sharp intake of air pierced through the quiet. His breaths came fast and shallow and the hairs on his arms rose.

An intruder. How had she gotten in? An ex-tenant who still had a key? Possibilities scrambled through his brain. Nobody would break into his apartment to weep. They’d take what they wanted and leave. A burglar wouldn’t cry. Unless she was on drugs.

The sobbing ceased.

He needed to call the police, but he’d left his phone on his nightstand. He inched back toward the bedroom, mentally preparing to defend himself if the trespasser attacked. Whoever was in his apartment didn’t know whether he was armed or not. That might be all the advantage he needed.

Bright moonlight filtered into the small living room and offered enough light to see outlines and shadows—unpacked boxes and neat stacks of files. In the late-night quiet, the only sounds were the muffled intermittent traffic from the Baltimore city street below and his racing heart. He’d had all of one week to unpack and move into the apartment. Tax season took priority over his new living quarters, though, and he hadn’t made much progress.

But now, instead of being an annoying reminder that he needed to finish unpacking, the boxes served as a barrier. A hiding place for someone.

A hushed sob from the other side of the small living room broke the silence, and Rob halted. He shut his eyes to force his hearing to compensate. The soft crying began again, and his eyes flew open. His gaze jerked to the black-and-white checkered sofa by the window.

Who the hell is there? he asked. He fisted his hands and pulled himself up to his full six feet in case the intruder could see him.

Silence.

Damn. He needed a flashlight. Not unpacked yet. In fact, buried in a box under two other boxes.

The curtains near the sofa fluttered, and he saw her. Medium height, slim, and wearing only a flimsy nightgown. His heart stuttered.

Long golden hair sparkled in the moonlight by the window. Her shoulders shook.

Rob stepped forward. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, touch her pearlescent skin. But it was that very skin that stopped him from getting closer. Almost translucent. As if he could see through her. After rubbing his eyes, he looked again. He couldn’t see through her. It was more a feeling that she wasn’t all there. Had he lost his mind?

Common sense told him to leave the apartment, call the police. Even shout for a neighbor. But instead of either, he stepped toward the sofa, unable to stop himself. Whoever she was, she was too upset to cause him any harm. He moved closer. Who are you? Why are you in my apartment?

Sadness dripped down her face like the tears that tracked to her chin.

Only two more steps and he stood near enough to get a better look at her. Hey, he whispered. Do you need help? He held his hands out, palms up, and stepped closer.

She closed her eyes, took a breath, and then gazed at him.

What’s wrong? Rob whispered. A million other questions flew through his mind. Who are you? What are you doing here?

She took a step back and opened her eyes wide, as if she suddenly realized he was in the room. Hadn’t she heard him? Hadn’t she seen him? Maybe his near-nakedness scared her.

It’s okay. I won’t hurt you. He halted. If he reached out, he half-expected to touch nothing but air. Nothing made sense. Maybe he’d had some bad sushi or something, bringing on a waking nightmare. With a beautiful woman.

She blinked at him. In the dim light, he couldn’t see her eye color. A sudden, overwhelming need to comfort her washed over him. The woman glanced around the apartment, and fresh tears slid down her cheeks. Her hunched shoulders made her look like she wished she’d stayed invisible to him. She was trespassing. Still, a part of him that had never quite healed since his teenage years yearned to reach out to offer help. Help he hadn’t been able to give his twin brother so many years ago. He forced the memory away.

This woman didn’t hold a weapon, didn’t even seem to notice him. She wasn’t a threat to his safety. He took a step closer and extended his arms. Okay, so this dream was very real. May as well go with it, see where it took him.

At first he thought she’d back away, but when she met his gaze, she bit her bottom lip. She tilted her head as if in question, closed her eyes, and stepped forward into his embrace. Like warm cotton candy straight from the vendor, she melted against him, fitting perfectly. Feeling more real than she looked. What did she need? She laid her head on his chest. So soft, so feminine. Her silky nightgown didn’t provide much of a barrier, and he willed his libido to calm.

Her sobs vibrated against his torso. Long, drawn-out weeping accented by gasps for breath as if she’d been holding it in for a long, long time. Sadness ripped at his gut, making him wish he could take her pain away. He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her closer.

Please, she whispered. Just one word, but it packed a world of meaning. Brought memories of his brother crashing back. This woman needed something. He wasn’t sure what it was, and he wasn’t sure if he was capable of figuring it out.

It’ll be okay. He closed his eyes, ran his hands over her cool skin, and hoped he could make her better, if only for a few minutes. Too bad you’re not real, he whispered. If she wasn’t real, wasn’t a dream, what was she? A ghost. No. He didn’t believe in ghosts. Those days were long gone.

His arms slid toward each other, suddenly empty. He opened his eyes and all the lights came on. She was gone.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the glare. Blinking several times, he squinted to look around the room. No trace to prove she’d ever been in his apartment. What the hell? He panted for breath. Running a hand through his hair, he glanced around the box-cluttered room. Stress overload. A woman in his apartment who disappeared when he told her he wished she was real. Sure, sure. Way to lose your sanity, pal.

Her one whispered word reverberated around his mind like an echo. The skin on his chest tingled where she’d laid her head. He bolted to the apartment door. Locked.

How the hell could he sleep after that encounter? Rob frowned at the faint lemon scent that lingered in the room. His imagination. Or was it? There was a time he would have believed what he had seen was real.

***

Angel didn’t have to open her eyes to know that the transformation was complete. Her skin prickled with an electric charge. Damp moss touched her legs and the sound of a bubbling brook rippled through the cool air. Her other world.

Angel wasn’t her real name, but it seemed to fit because if she had to be a spirit, she liked to think she was a good one.

Tonight, for the first time, someone had actually seen her. Seen her as if she existed in that world, even. That had to mean something, had to be some sort of progress in figuring out where she was and what she was supposed to do. Even now, the pleasure of being touched, of being held by a warm body, heated her skin.

The man. Who was he? How had he been able to see her when nobody else could?

She had no idea how long she’d been between two worlds. There was no way for her to measure time. Days didn’t exist in this place. Her lack of memory frustrated her more and more every day. How could she identify objects and places but have no recollection of who she was or why she was in this place?

Standing, she glanced around the tranquil surroundings. Pebbles lined the sides of the brook. She picked one up and tossed it, watching the splash turn into a wave as it swept with the current.

She didn’t cry here. Only in the other place.

Across the water, a shadow moved. It didn’t scare her any longer. When she’d first arrived, she’d been frightened, alone. Now the shadows brought her peace. Spirits like her, who all walked in their own worlds.

With her nightgown billowing in the gentle breeze, she strolled to her favorite spot under a huge weeping willow tree. Taking a seat in the lush grass beneath the swaying branches, she frowned, but her heart swelled with hope. Someone had seen her. Could it mean she’d finally know who she was and why she traveled alone through two different worlds, going almost unnoticed in