A Ghost of a Chance Read Online Free PDF

when Keenan moved in years before, but Keenan still didn’t know if he was the owner or just the bartender. They were on a casual head-bobbing basis.
    Keenan didn’t feel like lively conversation, so he just pointed to the tap. Patrick nodded once, yanked a glass from the stack behind him, and filled it. Keenan disregarded the twenty or so incorporeal customers that Patrick didn’t see. The chatter from the group was smoky, bouncing dully from the dark oak rafters.
    It was only then that Keenan realized he was naked under the long coat.
    No pants.
    No shorts.
    No wallet.
    He froze and sweat followed the jolt of realization down his armpits.
    Can anyone say flasher?
    Cramming his hand into his coat pocket without hope, he touched the soft crumpled surface of a bill and several coins. When he pulled the ten out, the sight sent momentary relief through the tight muscles in his neck, followed by a chill that rippled just under his skin. He slid it over the bar and took his beer, hoping to God that the two men staring at him didn’t notice his bare legs. Neither said a thing when Patrick passed the change to him and went back to cleaning glasses behind the high bar.
    The dead patrons laughed their asses off.
    When Keenan settled into a booth at the back of the bar, he downed half the beer in a single gulp and came up breathless.
    “Steady, man,” Reggie said softly, sitting across from him. “You’ll need your wits.”
    Keenan ran one shaking finger around the rim of the glass and curled his lip. “What just happened to me?”
    Reggie lit a mirage cigarette and blew billowing clouds into the ether. “You’re not going to like it.”
    In reply, Keenan snorted irritably and looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear him talking to himself. He didn’t need psychosis on top of public indecency tonight.
    “Spill it,” he hissed.
    Reggie flicked the cigarette into the air where it disappeared. “Have you ever heard of a succubus?”
    “Sure.” Keenan sat back and tapped on the beer mug absently. “Don’t they suck out your life when you’re asleep or something?”
    “Not exactly.” Reggie’s smirk deepened and the ghostly light in his eyes intensified. It was obvious he was enjoying this. From time to time, Reggie showed a spark of something that bothered Keenan and even frightened him a little. His eyes were now so bright Keenan sat back a bit and put one foot outside the booth.
    “A succubus is a type of female spirit that lives off the sexual energy of men. They visit you in your sleep, stupefy you, and then…well, have their way with you, not to put too fine a point on it.” A mischievous grin split his lips and another cigarette appeared between his teeth. “How was it?”
    Keenan snarled and took another drink. “Dandy,” he replied, looking back at the bar again. “I feel like shit. What did she do to me?”
    An eerie laugh escaped Reggie’s mouth. It was almost gleeful. “Actually, you are lucky to be conscious at all. I’ve known men who can’t walk for a week afterwards.” He gave Keenan a lascivious wink and leaned against the table, pulling his elbows back when they slid into the wood. Heat traveled through the table and into Keenan’s hands, warming the icy condensation on the mug. Reggie was the only ghost, as far as he knew, that gave off heat instead of cold. “You must have some endurance, my lucky friend, to go so long with one.”
    The suds in Keenan’s mug laced into dark liquid as he watched. “So, is she a ghost?”
    “Not really.” Reggie pulled a long draw on his cigarette.
    “A demon?”
    Reggie tilted his head and regarded Keenan for several ticks of the grungy clock hanging above the booth. The smoke coming out of his nose gathered in a wreath above his head and lingered there for a long time.
    “No, not a demon either. She’s…very unique. I don’t know of many still practicing , so to speak. Not in the U.S., anyway. You find them in Germany and