The Prophet by Amanda Stevens

don’t look so good,” he commented.
    “I just walked all the way from my house. I’m a bit winded.”
    “No, that’s not it. You look ill. What’s wrong with you?”
    I cut him a glance. “Oh, I don’t know. Could it be that you’re haunting me?” I asked with more than a shade of sarcasm.
    I couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark lenses, but I felt the frost from his gaze. The sensation was eerie and unsettling. “I’m not doing that to you.”
    “Really? Because as I recall, you admitted to draining my energy so that you could sustain your presence in the living world. That’s what you said, isn’t it?”
    “That was then. I needed a way to get your attention. I had to make sure you would agree to help me. But now that we’ve come to an arrangement, I’ve backed off.”
    I merely lifted a brow.
    “I’ve purposely kept my distance so that you could build your strength back up.” He paused, and I felt that icy stare yet again. “You’ll need every ounce of it.”
    “Is that a prediction?”
    “You can take it as such.”
    Ignoring his ominous tone, I leaned against the railing. “If you’re not draining me, then who is? Or should I say what?”
    “Another ghost would be my guess.”
    Another ghost. I didn’t know why, but it struck me as significant that, despite his humanlike appearance, he thought of himself as a ghost. He was under no delusions of remaining in the living world. Far from it. He just wanted to solve his murder and move on.
    I tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “You don’t look like any of the other ghosts I see. You have no aura, no transparency. How do you manifest after dawn and before twilight? Don’t you have to wait for the veil to thin? How are you here now, when the sun is coming up?”
    “It takes a lot of energy and concentration.”
    “If you’re not draining me, where do you get your energy?”
    “Why does it matter?” he asked tersely. “It has nothing to do with you.”
    “Everything about our arrangement concerns me. You came to me, remember? And for all I know, you brought something with you that is draining me.” I thought of that lurking shadow outside my window and shivered. “I know you’re probably tired of answering all my questions, but this is important. My house is built on hallowed ground and yet you were sitting on my front porch. You were able to breach my sanctuary and now something else has, too.”
    “I told you it wasn’t me.”
    “I know that’s what you said, but assuming you wanted to, could you manifest inside my house?”
    “No, not inside.”
    I paused in relief. Then glanced at him doubtfully. “Is that the truth or are you just telling me what I want to hear?”
    “The real truth? I’ve never tried.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because, believe it or not, I’m not looking to inconvenience you any more than I have to.”
    Inconvenience me? That was certainly an interesting way of putting it.
    “I appreciate your consideration,” I said. “But unfortunately, my sanctuary has been violated. A heart was traced in the frost on my bathroom mirror. I don’t see how it could have been done unless a ghost entered my home.”
    “Psychokinesis,” he said.
    “You can do that?”
    “On occasion. If you’re worried about a visitation, try burning some sage in the house. You can use the ashes to smudge the mirrors and windows.”
    “That actually works? Sage will repel you?”
    I saw a thin smile. “Me? No. But it might discourage a lesser manifestation.”
    “Like a ghost child?”
    He shrugged.
    “If you’re not draining me, then it must be Shani,” I mused.
    His voice sharpened. “Shani?”
    “John Devlin’s daughter. She seems to have latched onto me.”
    “She drowned,” he said.
    I whirled in surprise. “Have you seen her?” A woman walking by on the Battery slanted me a curious glance, and I turned back to the harbor, lowering my voice. “You’ve seen Shani Devlin?”
    “I told you I keep my distance