Read Dead, Undead, or Somewhere in Between for Free Online Page B

direction of the dance floor.
    Good God .
    During the course of our conversation, the ratio of alive to undead had changed. For every human in the joint, there were two vampires. Even Miami wasn’t this bad.
    “What kind of club is this?” I asked suspiciously, the truth revealing itself like an unwelcome surprise.
    “A club that caters to my kind. Didn’t you know?” The smug smile on Disco’s face pissed me off.
    “She is green,” Goose said, sounding both shocked and slightly haughty.
    “Sad, isn’t it?” Disco spoke to him but looked at me, “If she put half as much effort into honing her craft as she does into expanding her sailor’s vocabulary, she could have potential.”
    I blew them off and stared at the blood guzzlers in the room. Each orifice of the dance floor was crammed as they romanced their dinners.
    My eyes squinted in concentration as I peered into the dark nooks and crannies. Outlines of people lingered in the shadows, bodies melded together. I had a good idea of what was happening, green or not.
    “Ugh!” I cringed and averted my eyes. How people ever functioned under the notion vampires were sexy was beyond my comprehension. You were making out with a corpse, formaldehyde not included.
    Disco regarded me intently, as if offended by my reaction. Then his face became a blank slate—nothing there but an empty stare that bore me back into the seat.
    “Do you hate us so much?”
    “It’s not personal,” I explained. There was no reason to be an absolute bitch. “I just tend to steer clear of things that give me the creeps.”
    “Don’t you mean things that frighten you?”
    I didn’t bother trying to deny it. He would know if I was lying, and besides, it would explain my reaction. “That too.”

Chapter Five
    Canal Street is one hell of a place to discover the real New York. It’s not bright lights, big city. It’s gritty, raw, and crowded. The buildings and streets are dirty. There is garbage scattered along the way, and the rats live lavishly through the waste.
    I met up with Goose after my workout. It was early and the street was filling with vendors. The air had just lost the permeating smell of oriental foods, stale smoke and asphalt, but soon it would be back in force. As usual there were ghosts galore—having died from both natural and unnatural causes. So far I’d passed four men and two women, only one of which had died violently.
    Since Goose was the professional, I decided to grill him with some choice questions, and once I started, I couldn’t seem to stop. He appeared to enjoy my interest, answering readily, and I discovered several things.
    Not all people will become spirits. Most of them just take off to that special place we all go when we die. However, for some, the tie to the mortal world is still strongly connected and they continue to exist. These poor souls usually venture along the same paths they took during their life, only veering off course if they sense a necromancer in the vicinity.
    That’s where we came in.
    Ghosts want to communicate. They want to get that final word out to a loved one, or seek vindication for their untimely death. Afterward, they’ll fade to the other side.
    We discussed the ‘yuck’ factor, which essentially are the super gooey and bloody ghosts who made me skip all my daily meals. They are perfectly intact, their forms seemingly solid at first glance. The first time I saw one, I scared the shit out of everyone around me by screaming like a pansy and hauling ass in the opposite direction. Thank God, I was only fifteen at the time, and the witnesses to my humiliation reside in Miami.
    “The fresher the death, the fresher the spirit,” Goose explained, smiling at my harrowing tale. “Most spirits begin to fade over time. The hazier they are, the older.”
    “I remember a hellacious car accident when I was in high school. Two cars collided head on, and it killed everyone involved. The traffic was backed up for a mile solid.