Free Ghosts of Rosewood Asylum by Stephen Prosapio Page A

procured from the
nearby GrocersMart . Pierre and Matthew had unloaded a slew of equipment
cases from the trucks and were investigating the hallways for logical spots to
place cameras.
    Patrizia was pacing the length of the lobby
when Zach walked in. Her rugged boots clomped across the wood floorboards. Her
fingers pulled through strands of her long dark hair in slender groupings as
she again retraced her steps.
    “Hey,” Zach said, as he approached. “Sorry
we didn’t get you on camera this morning. I’m looking forward to your tour.”
    “Yeah.” She absentmindedly flicked her hair
from her hand and put both arms down at her sides.
    Her nose slightly hooked, Zach guessed she
was of Greek or Italian descent. Equally as tall as him, her boots gave her a
few inches height advantage. He found himself sweating under her glare.
    “Are you about ready...ready to begin?” He
ran his hand through his hair.
    She didn’t answer and was intently staring
at his wrist. It was as if she were about to dissect him. “I like your tattoo,”
she said, pointing to the Chi Rho . “You have more, don’t you?”
    “Like these?” Zach was unable to hide his
surprise.
    How had she guessed?
    “Just—any?” she asked, and then quickly
added, “I’ve got—here I’ll show you.”
    She slipped off her white leather jacket
exposing a black sleeveless shirt and slender but toned arms. Covering her
right bicep and triceps from her shoulder to her elbow was a sepia-toned tattoo
of a buff angel. Dressed in warrior garb, his wings extended up on both sides
of her shoulder, beneath her shirt. His arms crossed over the handle of his
downward-pointed sword, and disappeared into clouds drawn near her elbow. His
jaw was determination incarnate—a badass, guardian angel in repose.
    “Michael?”
    “ San Michele Arcangelo .”
    “Huh?”
    “Yes. Michael the Archangel.”
    “So you’re Italian?”
    “ Si . At least my parents were.”
    As though the question had inspired her, she
untucked her shirt and pulled it up to just below her chest. Exposing more than
her spandex top had shown the previous day, she revealed, just below her left
breast and close to her sternum, a red heart with a gold dagger running through
it. Dripping off the tip of the dagger was a single drop of crimson blood.
    “That’s for love,” she said. “I have one
other that I cannot show you.”
    Zach blurted the first thing that came to
mind. “A tramp stamp?”
    It was probably the stupidest thing he could
have asked.
    Her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed.
“No.”
    Considering the look made him slightly
lightheaded, he didn’t follow that line of questioning. The faint scent of Sailor
Black tobacco was his first indication that he was getting overly excited.
His fingers went numb, and his feet lost some of their feeling.
    “Show me yours,” she said.
    Zach’s heart skipped a beat. “I can’t.”
    She rolled her eyes and scowled.
    “No, I mean there’s nothing really to see.
They’re like these.” He flashed his wrists, “Only they’re bigger and I’d have
to…”
    “I understand,” she said, and then added a
pout.
    Zach relented and reached for the top button
of his shirt. “Okay I’ll—”
    “Hey you two!”
    Saved by the Wendybird. Showing Patrizia the
tattoo on his side would have led to questions he didn’t want to answer.
    “What’s up?” Wendy asked, looking completely
disinterested in an answer. “Zach, I need to tell you something before I
leave.”
    “Oh, right. I’ll walk you out.” He turned
toward Patrizia. “Can you give me a second?”
    Patrizia merely turned and walked away.
    “God, she’s such a bitch,” Wendy said.
    Zach watched Patrizia make her way down the
hallway. Feeling returned to his fingers and toes. His legs felt more stable
than when he’d been talking to her. Patrizia was something of an enigma; in his
mind, she was anything but a bitch.
    He motioned Wendy toward the front doors.
“Okay, shoot.