Dead Endings Book 2: Chapter 2

“So…you called me out here because some random guy with a pigeon phobia told you someone floated away?”

Everett’s dark eyebrows climbed his forehead as he listened to her “lead.” Slightly out of breath, he tugged at his DayGlo green polo and scraped his silver Converse on the concrete.

Cailen opened her mouth to argue, but on second consideration, his description was pretty accurate.

“Pigeon thing aside,” she said with a shrug, “he knew about Glasses. It’s too much of a coincidence for a pretty solid playback to just up and disappear near the death balloons. Pigeon guy also said the playback ‘floated away.’”

“Did pigeon guy give you anything else? Like, anything actually useful?”

“Not…exactly. But that’s what you’re for. We’ll go to the spot and you can sniff it out.”

He didn’t look convinced, and Cailen thought she detected a slight air of offense as well. She switched tactics.

“An investigation like this is perfect for you. Heck, it wouldn’t be possible without you.”

“…I guess it can’t hurt to take a look,” he conceded.

“Good! Right this way,” she said, and set off without looking to see if he followed. There was a tell-tale scuff of shoes behind her a moment later.

They reached the Wells Fargo and positioned themselves under the street sign Cailen had stood by earlier. Pedestrians trickled around them in steady numbers, but not one showed any interest in their silent study of the space across the way.

“It smells like…gym socks,” Everett said after a minute. “And burnt plastic.”

“I was going to say a smoldering diaper, but yeah, close enough,” Cailen agreed. “Get any undead smells through all of that?”

Lifting his chin, he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. “There is…something. I think I need to get closer.”

They crossed the street, and Cailen pointed out the exact spot the spirit had once occupied. Everett circled the spot slowly, wandered off a bit in one direction, then returned. He got down on one knee and made another sort of searching sniff. Across the street, a pudgy man in sandals with shin-high socks glanced in their direction and shot Cailen the cheesiest thumbs-up she had ever received. Confused, she looked at him, then down at Everett kneeling in front of her. Avoiding further eye contact, Cailen massaged the bridge of her nose and wondered if it was too early for a whiskey.

“How’s it coming, Ev?”

He stood and brushed dirt off the knees of his pants. “Leather and pennies. Well, something metallic-coppery, anyway. But…”

“But?”

“It’s not…what I expected.”

She cocked her head to one side.

“Well, you said it’s not here now, right?”

She nodded.

“So I expected something faded or faint, or even nothing. You know, because it’s gone. What I’m getting isn’t any of those things. It’s clear and sharp and…in pieces.”

Cailen did a little eyebrow raising of her own. “How can smells be ‘in pieces’?”

He gestured helplessly. “Ghost smells are concentrated. Like when you forget to take out the garbage, and after a while, it reeks. The smell is all over, but it has a center. This thing is strong, really strong…but there’s no core. It’s kind of like scented confetti.”

Cailen chewed her cheek as she thought. To her “ghost vision” eyes, there was nothing there–spirit or spirit shrapnel. There was no prickling feeling that usually accompanied a spirit, either. Cailen squinted at the spot, trying to see the spectral detritus. The thought of a ghost being shredded to bits so small that it was nearly invisible stirred an unpleasant feeling in her gut.

Everett cleared his throat. “There’s something else.”

She waited expectantly, though he was clearly itching for her ask what it was. He lasted a moment more before excitement overruled his cool.

“The smell also seems to go,” he pointed up the street towards 78th, “that way.”

They both stared in that direction for a moment before Cailen whirled back to face him.

“Oh my God, you ARE like a dog!” she cackled.

The tips of his ears went scarlet. “Shut up! Do you want my help or what?!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She patted him on the back. “Lead on! I might be procrastinating from work, but I do eventually have to get back to it.”

Slowly, they made their way up Lexington, Everett stopping every now and then to test the air. He almost veered down side alleys twice, but quickly returned to the main thoroughfare.

Cailen watched his progress with undisguised curiosity. Aside from their adventures the previous year, she didn’t have much of an idea of how his abilities worked. Did he simply smell supernatural odor? Or was it some sort of synesthesia, where his special ability translated unearthly essence into nasal cues only he could perceive? It was all very mysterious. And amusing. He looked like an indecisive drunk trying to navigate a mystical path to kebabs.

They carried on up the street, but instead of making a right toward 3rd Street and back to the food trucks like she had expected, Everett only paused at the intersection before crossing over 79th. When they reached a nail salon halfway up the block, he abruptly stopped.

Cailen pulled up beside him just in time to see his nose crinkle. She leaned around him and peered through the smudged shop window. A freshly printed advert promising professional pedicures obscured most of the view, but did nothing to hide a pair of glassy dark eyes that stared back at them. A single pale finger began tracing slow circles on the glass.

Averting her eyes, Cailen took him by the elbow and dragged him forward.

“Do I want to know?” he asked quietly as they walked.

“Nope,” she replied.

Further up past 81st Street, he stopped again–but this time, he seemed relieved. A pleased smile tugged at his lips as he looked up and down the block, inhaling deeply. “It’s clearer here. Like it’s fresh or something.”

Cailen quickly took stock of the area. Again, nothing stood out to her.

“Can you pinpoint anything more specific?” she asked.

By way of reply, Everett turned slowly, head tilted back to give his nose maximum exposure. His eyebrows did interesting things as he sorted through whatever information he was getting.

Cailen waited patiently as he went through his motions, but she was acutely aware that they were starting to attract attention. “C’mon, Scooby…” she murmured under her breath.

Everett continued to spin.

The door to a coffee shop banged open nearby, and a delivery man backed an empty trolley out of the store. Everett’s eyes snapped open as the door clanged shut.

“There!” he said, pointing at the doorway.

The coffee shop was a dated affair tucked between a Subway and a hair supply outlet. Faded red awning jutted out over two expansive windows that were scratched with age. The peeling white lettering proclaimed Jahn’s.

The door opened again, expelling a pair of middle-aged women . Everett’s nostrils flared as they swept by. He threw Cailen a meaningful look.

“Super strong,” he whispered. Cailen stared at the shop, unsure how to proceed. To be honest, she hadn’t expected them to find much of anything; the look on Everett’s face, despite a slight smugness, also suggested he was almost as surprised as she was.

“Let me have a quick look first,” Cailen said. “Might give us an idea of what’s in there.”

Perhaps remembering the nail salon they’d passed, Everett slowly nodded. He backed up and leaned against the wall of the Subway, as though waiting for someone. It almost looked natural until he gave Cailen what he probably thought was a subtle wink.

Cailen sighed and walked over to the coffee shop window, plastered with a menu. She peeked around the side of the glued paper and through the glass.

The inside of the cafe was awash in beech laminate and fake maroon leather. Generous plush booths lined the walls, while smaller rounded tables filled the floor space between. A giant wood counter with an inbuilt display case crowded the area just right of the door, but overall, it was surprisingly spacious inside. Spacious, but still exuding the worn, cozy feel of a long-established local haunt, which probably explained the few customers of all ages.

Cailen chewed her lip. Her eyes swept across the clientele, not exactly sure what was she was looking for. Unlike Gabriella, she had no talent for spotting, well, other talents. Everyone looked normal enough, from the banker-type sitting at the counter, to the trio of college-age girls tucked away in a booth, to the two kids being seated…

And then she looked up.

Unconsciously, Cailen stepped back from the window, breath caught in her throat. She heard Everett ask something, but she ignored him. Slowly, cautiously, she leaned back toward the window until her palms brushed the cool glass.

An intense cold worked its way through the glass and her fingers.

“Shit,” she said, and flipped open her phone to call Gabriella.

Proceed to Chapter 2, page 3–>