One is the type to react differently the most to things. Sometimes he’s into gore. Sometimes the sex.
Jude is my favorite, of course. He’s the one I would have first. I’d never settle for just one. I’m past all points of dignity or respectable difference. I’m not a lady anymore—possibly never was, since I can’t remember.
I’ve endured this for over five years.
I’ve only caught glimpses of the other world they frequent. They’re certainly not from America, it seems. No. They live in a rather elaborate place where the colors are brighter, the smells are stronger, and the people are really dark and scary.
Somehow it feels familiar too. Though I’m not sure how.
Hard to explain, since I’m a ghost with no knowledge of my past or other worldly things. I know a lot of useless things.
But I’ve found myself knowing things that I didn’t realize were other-worldly until it was pointed out.
So whatever it is they are, I’m something similar. Though that is all real sketchy. I’m almost certain they’re immortals of some kind, but that’s all I’ve gathered. And not vampires; I’m certain of that.
Since I decided to keep eyes on them through all the dirty and the private, my presence has grown stronger. I’m able to stay all the time now. I can even let them out of my sight and not start fading away.
It’s still hard to focus in that other place, though. And now they’re about to start being there a lot more, since they’ve entered the trials. What trials? Hell if I know.
Since whatever I am doesn’t sleep, I even have to watch them sleep.
Ten minutes is the longest I can keep my eyes off them. The second I feel the warning tingle, I’m practically on someone’s lap, pretending he’s soothing me as the strength slowly returns.
They’re very comforting, though they don’t know it.
Needless to say, it’s been a long five and a half years.
There are a lot of others in this other place they visit. Others who also are possibly immortals. Those people are rather vicious. It’s like a forbidden retreat. Ethereal, but full of debauchery and violence.
Seductive as it may be, it’s still a very haunting place, and I have no idea why my boys insist on hanging around those terrible people.
Whatever celestial beings they are, they get tested every other year to see if they get some kind of spot on these trials. My boys have finally been selected.
I assume. I’m not really sure.
Things fade to a fuzz around the edges, and I mostly can’t hear all the words and stuff when I’m there. So…an academy? Or a training facility? Who knows?
Anyway, they finally finish off the tonight’s mushy girl with several more mind-blowing orgasms. She’s practically worshiping them now, telling them she thinks she’s finally in love.
I hate her. I hate all of them. And yes, I realize it’s because of petty jealousy.
They send her on her way the second pizza arrives. I join them at the table, sitting in my seat on the end, pretending I’m eating a piece as well as Two speaks around a mouthful.
“It’s my turn to choose the girl next. We haven’t had a redhead in a while,” he tells them.
I frown, looking at my very dark hair. “Nothing at all wrong with brunettes,” I tell him, though he obviously doesn’t hear me.
“Blondes are more fun,” One states with a dark grin.
“Only because you haven’t met me yet,” I point out. “I’ll be game for basically anything with the four of you the second I’m whole.”
“Brunettes are the most tolerable,” Three says after draining a beer.
“Tolerable is not a very sexy way of describing the women with my hair color, Three” I say on an exasperated sigh. “Do you have to be so rude?”
“Brunettes are the ones who fake it the least,” Four says with a smirk, winking over at Three, who pointedly ignores him.
“Yeah, but the blondes I pick out are wildcats. Very little effort in convincing them to try a little bit of anything,” One goes on.
“Redheads are wildcats too. And they’re fucking vicious in the best way,” Two says as he grabs another piece of pizza. “Not to mention they make you work for it.”
“I find it rather annoying how you four classify women based on their hair color,” I primly state, pretending as though my opinion carries weight, when they can’t even see or hear me.
“How about we just get some rainbow-haired girls and call it a tie?” Three drawls.
“I’ll change all of your minds on brunettes. Or I’ll just figure out a way to finally possess these women and be a little bit of everything,” I tell them absently, studying the types of pizza they ordered tonight.
I’ll try some of that pepperoni when I can.
The conversation shifts when they start discussing these trials I’m so curious about, so I perk up.
“Manella has something planned if he’s finally putting us in the trials. We should be ready for anything,” One states conversationally, as though they’re picking up a discussion they paused to sex up that very lucky girl.
“He’s an idiot if he does let us in. Whatever he doesn’t want us knowing will be easier for us to find,” Three says flippantly.
That has me inching forward.
“We’ve played our part. We’ve done our time. They’re running out of reasons as to why we can’t be there. They had to do this because everyone else was starting to have the same questions we were. We’ve excelled at everything, won time after time, yet never get into the trials. They can’t cover it up if they make it so obvious,” Two—I love his voice the most—says as he pours himself a drink.
Make what obvious? It would be awesome if they’d talk about this stuff here more than there.
“Not to mention the sheer volume of souls we’ve reaped. Our count is much higher than anyone else’s,” Four drawls.
Oh, I forgot to mention, they’re sort of bad guys. I’ve been calling them reapers.
I mean, they send the bad souls to the bad place, so obviously they’re bad guys if they’re working for soul collectors or something.
I still want all four. Told you; you learn a lot about your moral compass when yours is the only opinion that matters. Turns out, I’m an unapologetic psychopath.
Not really. I’d just like to know why exactly they got into this line of work. As I said, they’re immortal, which is totally mind-blowing until it’s just sort of regular, everyday stuff.
I’m not even wowed by it anymore, but I can’t be impressed by a mere mortal now either. Not after being around them so much.
I wonder if I was ever impressed by a mere mortal. I really hope I’m not a virgin—can’t even touch myself in this state of being to do an inspection.
I don’t want any awkwardness when I finally figure out how to touch them.
And I will figure it out.
They’ve fortunately had some women over who love their old collection of nineties movies. The ones they have to woo usually get to pick a movie while they get over their nerves of being with four indecently sexy men at once. Some of the ones who’ve chosen Ghost? I love those women. They’re totally awesome, even if I still hate them when they get to touch my men.