Free Dark Perception: The Corde Noire Series by Alexandrea Weis

was a
palace compared to the apartment she had left behind.
    “ Holy crap! This is for
me?”
    The adjoining kitchen was also painted
the same shade of yellow, with oak cabinets and beige-granite
countertops. Plopping her backpack on the breakfast bar, she began
inspecting the full-sized refrigerator, small stove, dishwasher,
and wide sink.
    Melinda ran her hands along the stove.
“No more hot plates!” she almost squealed.
    She began opening cabinet doors and
inspecting all the room she had for dishes, pots, and utensils.
There was even a wide pantry set behind a door in the corner of the
kitchen.
    “ Look at the size of this
thing,” she said in a reverent tone, taking in the
pantry.
    Bubbling with excitement, she went to
the wide row of picture windows, and was awestruck by the grand
view of the Mississippi River. Eager to see more, she ventured down
a short hallway just off to her right. The first door she came to
opened to a bathroom with his and her sinks, a shower stall, a
Jacuzzi bathtub set into the corner, a linen closet, and a private
room for the toilet.
    Grinning from ear to ear, Melinda left
the bathroom and stepped across the hall to another door. She found
a spacious bedroom with a recessed ceiling, walk-in closet, and a
quaint sitting area off to the right, with two beige wingback
chairs in front of another wide picture window. In the center of
the room was a king-sized, black-iron canopy bed, with a headboard
reminiscent of the romantic balconies of many a French Quarter
home. Detailed with swirls and intricate floral designs, the bed
was a work of art. On either side were two dark mahogany
nightstands, with a matching mahogany dresser and chest of drawers
completing the room.
    After exiting the bedroom, she noticed
a white metal door at the end of the short hallway. When Melinda
pulled the door open, she discovered a six-foot by eight-foot room
painted white. The floors, unlike the rest of the apartment, were
covered with white tile that was blemished with deep scratches and
black scuff marks.
    While standing in the doorway, Melinda
felt drawn to the corner of the room. There was a presence. She
could feel someone calling to her, and then a vision came forward.
A woman—a shadow really—with blurred features and hair around her
shoulders was standing before her. The only detail Melinda could
make out was something shiny binding her wrists. She was crying,
and as the image faded, a white mist formed in the corner of the
room.
    “ No, don’t show yourself to
me.” She threw her head back and groaned. “I don’t talk to the
dead, I just see the future.”
    The mist hastily retreated and the
heavy feeling in the room vanished. Melinda sighed with relief. It
wasn’t the first time she had seen ghosts. Hell, she had lived in
the French Quarter of New Orleans and seen stranger stuff than many
paranormal writers could possibly imagine, but she had always tried
to tune out the dead. She knew a few mediums who had warned her to
never open the door to the afterlife. The dead were reputed to be
pushy, obnoxious, and relentless when they needed to be heard,
driving more than a few mediums out of their minds.
    Retreating from the room, she shut the
metal door with a loud bang. Heading back down the hall, she
wondered if there would be footsteps waking her in the night or
doors opening and closing on their own.
    I should be more
frightened of the man living next door to me than having a ghost in
my apartment.
    Brushing off her concerns about unseen
visitors, Melinda entered the living room and took one more look
around.
    “ I think I’ll tell the
movers to take all my stuff and put it in storage. My crap is going
to look so trashy next to these nice things.”
    A knock at her open front door
startled Melinda. When she looked up, Phil was filling up her
doorway with his massive physique.
    “ What do you think?” He
waved the clipboard in his hand around her living room.
    “ I can’t believe this is
all