The Spectral Agent - Chapter 8 - Text

Viktor has a plan, barely. Chai has jokes, plenty.

The Spectral Agent is my first full-length novel and an experiment.

Ed the Editor

and I are independent creators, publishing chapter by chapter: podcast first, then text. It’s designed to be heard. We’d love to receive your feedback so we can tell stories better.

Start at Chapter 1 or find where you left off.

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The Spectral Agent - Chapter 8

I was leaving the office building when hunger gnawed at me, a dull ache in my stomach I’d been ignoring for too long. I passed a vending machine on the first floor, the glaring fluorescent lights illuminating rows of snacks. Lenny had agreed to meet at a greasy diner, but I wasn’t going to order anything, so I should eat at least a little something now.

I looked across the rows, deciding what to get.

“Why’d you let Lenny go? Won’t he run or call for backup? That’s what I would do.”’ Chai cut into my thoughts.

I was instinctively holding onto the earring. Chai’s mind could randomly shake loose a memory and blurt out useful information at any time, so I had to keep the connection open. It was second nature at this point, and I didn’t realize it until he spoke.

I had already thought about Lenny’s too quick agreement to meet, so I had a reply ready. “No, we’ve got too much on him. It’s not like he can tell his gang we’re blackmailing him for ratting on them. He’ll show.”

If Chai had anything to say after that, I didn’t hear because there they were, a gorgeous bag of pretzels staring back at me. I pressed the button and tapped my phone to pay.

I waited for the bag to drop, but it just sat stubbornly in its slot. I sighed, stepping back to inspect it as if glaring at the machine would make it reconsider.

Chai was sitting on one of the chairs next to the vending machine, legs crossed.

“Man, they really don’t make cops like they used to.” His voice continued in my head. “Big, bad detective Viktor Levitsky gets defeated by a vending machine.”

I wasn’t in the mood for whatever antics he was up to now, so I shot back, “It ate my money!”

“Oh no, not your precious seventy-five cents!”

Chai gasped dramatically, standing up to lean against the vending machine like he owned the place. Each movement he took made his apparition flicker.

“This is a travesty. Somebody call the UN. We’ve got a crisis.”

I shot him a glance, but his grin only widened. “Are you done?” I asked. He straightened up, cracking his knuckles like he was about to fight the machine.

“Stand back, old man. Time to show you how it’s done.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re a ghost. What are you going to do? Haunt it into submission?”

Chai ignored me, crouching slightly, staring at the machine. He reached out and slapped the side of it with exaggerated flair. His hand phased harmlessly through the metal.

“C’mon, you stubborn box of lies,” he muttered, punctuating his words with increasingly aggressive shakes.

“Damnit! Give! Up! The! Snacks!”

I stared at him as he studied the machine like he was planning his next move. “Impressive.” I said flatly. Chai swung his arm dramatically through the machine again. It didn’t budge.

“You’ll never understand the art of living with that attitude, Viktor.”

“I’m not fighting a vending machine over a bag of processed carbs,” I replied, crossing my arms. Chai stood, glaring at the machine like it had insulted his family.

This time, he phased into the machine entirely, his faint glow visible through the glass. After a moment, the machine rattled and the bag of pretzels fell into the slot.

“There!” He phased back out, standing triumphantly beside me. “Justice has been served.”

I reached for the bag, shaking my head.

Chai’s grin softened, a rare flicker of sincerity breaking through.“Seriously, though. Don’t give up so easy man, even if it’s for something stupid.”

The comment caught me off guard. It wasn’t about the pretzels. Of course, it wasn’t. I looked down at the snack in my hand.

I didn’t reply. Lately, Chai had been spouting what he must have thought were words of wisdom. I wasn't sure if it was part of his personality or just an act.

But as I turned to leave, I realized something strange. I was smiling, for the first time in days.

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The diner was loud and crowded, dishes were clinking, and orders were shouted. The sounds made my ears ring with pain. I felt a sense of unease, probably due to the crowd.

Large gatherings of people always made me feel dread. It always felt like there were twice as many people in the room. Like there were more people there than I could actually see.