Paranormal Agency BOOK 2 : THE FUNERAL HOME.
chapter 6

Alison ordered a long island iced tea and pulled out a cigarette from her purse.

"No smoking in here," the bartender warned. "New rules."

"Can I argue that?"

"Not really," he says.

She sighed. "Fine." She put the cigarette away and took a sip from her long island iced tea, a favorite drink of hers.

Marissa offers. "We can smoke outside if you want. My legs are getting kind of stiff as it is."

"Sure. Thanks. Let me just finish this drink," I say. It had been a long day and I was glad that I could relax with Marissa. The one thing about her job was that she was never bored. That was for sure.

Alison finished her drink and the two girls headed outside. "I'm still torn up about Emily," Alison admitted. "I'm having trouble thinking about anything else."

"Me too," Marissa sighed, putting an arm around Alison's shoulders. "It'll get better, I promise," she said. "You just have to hold on. And then it won't be long before it doesn't hurt at all anymore."

Emily was a friend of their's that had been murdered by the unknown. They had called her blessed and called themselves the soulless. Alison still blamed herself for not being able to save her.

Alison pulled a cigarette from her purse and lit it carefully. She inhaled slowly and let out a breath of air. "I'm trying to quit. Believe it or not. I picture myself a nonsmoker still. Someday anyway."

"I see."

Marissa pulled out a cigarette as well and began to smoke it. "I'm never quitting. Not for me. I love smoking. Calms me down and makes me feel normal. They say it soothes schizophrenia and depression. That's what they say. And maybe could even prevent it. So I'm all about prevention so I'm never quitting. Never."

"Ha," I laugh. "I guess."

The two of them spoke for several more moments before Greg arrived, gliding toward them as quickly as possible apparently and landing in between them. "I'm done with my research for the day, Alison."

She nodded. "Greg, do you mind. I can't talk right now. I'm with Marissa."

"Greg. Who's Greg," Marissa asked.

"Just a ghost friend of mine. He's bothering me."

"You have a ghost friend?" Marissa asked.

"Yes. Hold on a second." Alison turned her attention back to Greg. I'll meet you back at the house. I'm just going to hang out here for a second."

"Sure thing," Greg replied, "See ya Alison. I'll catch you at home."

Alison continued in explanation. "I met him a few years ago. He's been haunting me," she joked. "But he's a good friend and I enjoy his company."

"Well, why's he still here?" Marissa asked. "What's he look like? Is he cute? Why didn't he cross over when he found out he was dead?"

"He says he's got unfinished business. Can't cross over till he figures out what he's got to figure out apparently. He's tall and has dark hair and no he's not cute. He's actually something of an idiot to me and that's all I'm going to say about that."

"Really really really," Marissa replied, taking a final puff on her cigarette. "Well, that's quite interesting, quite interesting indeed, Miss Alison."

Alison laughed to herself. "Yes, definitely."