Note: Most ruler lines indicate a change of POV, e.g. from Rhea, to Suze and back again. kthxbai. ;D

Chapter 5: Who Ya Gonna Call?

I suppose that the news took a little while to sink in, 'cause the next day I was still thinking everything over while staring sightlessly at that which lay between me and the ocean. Once again, I'd been left to my own devices - not the wisest of moves, really, but one that gave me a chance to think without being interrupted by anyone with daft questions or vague remarks. Try as I might, I found it hard to separate everything out into easily digestible data chunks. Instead, everything seemed to hit me at once and it was impossible for me to do anything but blink and exclaim inwardly that this crap was way to much for me to handle all at once.

Sipping at a the remains of my now lukewarm coffee, I cringed at the bitter taste before setting the cup aside and leaning back casually in my chair. It was only late morning, so there was still a little fog obscuring my view of the Pacific. It'd taken me only a couple of days to adjust to the new scenery, strange weather patterns and abundance of unfamiliar accents. Obviously it's not hard to guess that was was bothering me most about this place was the discoveries I'd made in it more than anything else. The list of stuff I'd learned since I got here raced through my head once again, far too fast for me to pause and carefully consider each part of it. Shaking my head and sending myself a little dizzy, I tried to focus on the most pressing matter: this Susannah Simon.

The only things I knew about her were her name and the general area in which she lived, which certainly weren't much to go by. Judging by what Mark had said yesterday, I guess that he meant I should wait around a while before waltzing up to her front door and asking her mother whether or not her daughter has a tendency to talk to invisible people. I don't have to have done this before to know that I wouldn't get a very good reception even if this is the United States of We-Believe-What-We-See-On-TV. I don't know what the hell would bring her over here to my hotel during the middle of a school "semester", but if I hear anyone say Fate, I may just have to hit them with something heavy.

I'm not close-minded, I'm just... a little more science-orientated, that's all.

Usually, being indoors for prolonged periods doesn't particularly bother me. I'm more of an indoor person anyway - just in case you didn't notice the whole geek-chic thing I've been rocking - and so the idea of staying in the nice, peaceful interior of my hotel suite is much preferred to running outside to join the crazy Americans who, by now, are sure to be crowding the beach as the sun has just decided to emerge.

I guess that after about half a day on my own, not including sleeping hours, even I was getting lonely, despite my unsociable British heritage. It's odd, 'cause I've never found myself wanting familiar company before; even Jane's condescending tones would've been welcome at that moment. I must be ill or something.

I wasn't wanting for long, as it happens, because the inevitable happened: Jane materialised in the chair to my right and scared the bejesus out of me.

"Wouldyoustopdoingthat?" I spluttered, jolting forward in my seat and staring the ghost in the face with a somewhat deranged expression.

"No," she answered immediately, more intent upon examining each and every one of her fingernails than reading my expression. Rolling my eyes - partly because I knew she wasn't paying any attention - I laid back in my chair and closed my eyes while allowing a contented, patient façade to enshroud my features.

"So," I said, breaking the silence in my ever-so-subtle way. "You never actually said - how'd you die?"

At once I knew I had, yet again, said exactly the right thing to trigger a response that almost definitely would not be positive. The whirring of both the hibernating laptop and the idling coffee maker had halted abruptly, leaving me slap bang in the middle of a tension that would've had to be cut with a chainsaw rather than a knife.

Cracking open my right eye, I saw Jane wearing a look that was so full of outright dislike that it physically hurt to observe it. I'm pretty sure she knew she was making me... nervous, for lack of a better word, because after about a minute and a half the reigning silence remained unchallenged.

I barely had time to utter my customary "oops" before Jane herself started speaking.

"Could you be any more insensitive?" she asked while wearing a look of bitter curiosity.

"Yup," I told her simply, "but that'd be impolite."

"Do you actually care about what comes out of your mouth? I thought you Brits were supposed to be renowned for your propriety and impeccable manners."

"Obviously you've never met a chav on a dark street corner."

"Don't you have a single molecule of respect for the dead? Or anyone else, for that matter?"

"No. Especially not when the dead are hell bent on keeping the truth from me. Yesterday was the first time you've actually informed me about the situation since I met you. I can't help anyone if I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing!"

"Following instructions is what you're supposed to be doing," she replied curtly.

"I thought we'd already established that I'm no good at doing as I'm told?" I tossed back irritably.

"I thought we'd already seen the worst side of your personality. I'll add 'impatience' to the list of annoying traits, shall I?"

"It'd certainly advance your case study. Personally, I'm surprised that you haven't got me all figured out by now," I muttered.

Once again, silence fell upon us. It didn't feel quite as heavy as before, but that might've been because I cared less. The tension in the room simply didn't bother me any more.

"I don't actually remember," Jane said finally, reluctantly accepting that she wasn't going to win with me. Instead of my usual satisfaction, I felt only a vague sense of my victory and a rising feeling of bitterness which, I'm sure, any psychologist would say that I've been suppressing until now.

There's a reason I don't like shrinks.

Anyway, back to Jane. She wasn't looking at me any more and she seemed to have paused, either for effect or because she was gathering her thoughts - I mean, it's not as if she needed to pause for breath. Sadly, her silence didn't last for very long.

"It's all a little blurry," she told me in a strained voice. "I remember leaving my lab later than usual, but I don't actually recall exiting the building. When I woke up, I felt vaguely numb and was surrounded by people who I thought were acting as if I was invisible. As you can imagine, this annoying me a little."

Understatement of the century. I've accidentally forgotten to listen to Jane before and by the end of my momentary lapse in judgement, I did regret my minute of fun. Those paramedics wouldn't have known what had hit them if Jane had taken it into her head to terrorise them with her ghostly powers. Yikes.

"A minute or so later, I realise that the people around me weren't paying me the slightest bit of attention because they were too busy trying to revive a dead woman.

As I looked, I saw that my body didn't bear any obvious signs or causes of death. I didn't even have so much as a nosebleed or bruise.

After the project I'd been working on, I could pretty much guess at what had happened to me. My issue then was tracking you down - you were the closest, the person I could get to most easily. I started looking for you, eventually, and you know the story from there."

The delivery had been direct and casual, and Jane's face was a cool mask that told me absolutely nothing about her feelings on the matter.

Which sucked, because that meant I couldn't creep her out with occasional references to her obviously messed up mental status.

At that minute, I was definitely not being my normal, sensitive self. I was still fairly ticked off 'cause she'd been keeping stuff from me. I like to think I'm a generally reasonable person, but after being dragged by the scruff of my neck to the West Coast of America, I'm really not feeling quite as patient as before.

"Anything else you'd like to say while we've got the lovely little heart-to-heart thing going? I asked her in an off-hand way.

"No," she answered immediately. "You?"

"Nothing deep and meaningful-" I sighed like this was a crying shame "but I have a very important question."

All Jane did was raise an eyebrow at me questioningly.

I gave her my favourite, wicked smile.

"Did you see the old guy?"

"What old guy?" Jane frowned at me, genuinely puzzled, for once.

"The old guy at the Mission. Father Dominic, I think. You must've seen him, you showed up just before I said TTFN."

"The priest?" Her frown deepened. "What about him?"

"About two minutes before I left, he became deeply..." I leaned forwards in my chair, laid my interlinked fingers on the table before me and donned an expression of exaggerated concern, "-disturbed by something that seemed to be just behind me."

I dropped my act when I'd finished speaking and grinned openly at her.

"Hey, wait a minute, you're not saying-"

"It's a small world," I told her proudly, leaning back again and wriggling into a more comfortable position. "And not just small. Tiny."

The entire morning had been quiet. Hah, I wish.

In homeroom, Mr Walden, as per usual, pretty much left us to our own devices. I was being quizzed by the ever persistent Ceecee on what had happened with Jesse the other night, and was fending off her probing questions with non-committal noises and single syllable answers.

At lunch, I could be caught wondering when the Spanish Inquisition would end.

"Suze," she complained after a blissful two minute pause, "What's with you?"

"Um," I said. "Nothing."

"Stop lying, you know I can tell."

It still kinda amazes me how much Ceecee picks up just by watching me. She totally sussed me out within a year of knowing me.

Which reminds me: I never did actually explain the who mediator thing to her.

She's not being pushy - not about that, anyway - but eventually, I will have to explain. I've watched her and whenever she sees Jesse, it's abundantly clear that she can't understand how he's alive.

That makes two of us.

At first, I'm pretty sure she reached the conclusion that I was lying to her about the whole ghost thing. After a while she seemed to dismiss the idea, and not her curiosity has pinged back to an all-time high.

"Hey, Suze! Earth to Suze..."

Now she was waving a pale hand very close in front of my, now indignant, face in an effort to attract my attention.

"Okay, look, I have problems of a... sensitive nature."

Wide violet eyes bore holes in my face.

"Are you..."

"Am I what?" I asked, suspicious.

"Um, never mind," she responded, almost guiltily. "That's a no."

"What?" Impatience was overriding my usual instincts and I had the overwhelming urge to stamp my foot in the way that spoilt kids do in the movies.

"I won't tell you if you don't tell me."

The retort I'd had waiting on the tip of my tongue vanished and left me sitting with my mouth hanging open, kinda like a goldfish.

We stared at one another for a minute before out little war-of-words was interrupted by the quickly-stifled laughter of Adam, who had once again hung around to observe us.

Apparently having twin gazes of a confused nature directed at him was too much, 'cause his laughter reached new heights and he nearly toppled over.

"Sorry," he choked from behind a hand, "your faces... such a picture..."

The thought sent new tremors of laughter through him and he collapsed back against the wall he'd been leaning against not long before.

After rolling my eyes, I returned to my usual devil-take-the-hindmost attitude, with a small shake of my head. They did not call Adam the class clown for nothing.

By then my mind was already wandering and I found myself wondering what kind of chaos I'd find myself in later. True to Father D's request, I'd been checking out every place in Carmel that would catch the eye of someone visiting from out of town: B&Bs, hotels, you name it. To tell the truth, there aren't many places that me, Jesse, Paul and, on the odd occasion, Father Dominic himself, haven't searched. I hope that girl knows how much trouble she's caused me.

Tonight, we're supposed to be taking a wonderful - the atmosphere is sure to be so, what with both Jesse and Paul in the same vehicle - journey down Seventeen Mile Drive to visit the Pebble Beach Hotel & Golf Resort, the place I met Paul, as it happens. The irony is almost too much for me.

It's one of the last places on Father D's seemingly endless list of, what he calls, "points of interest", if I recall correctly, which means that I'm either very close to being free or out search will have to be widened to anywhere tourists happen to lurk. I'm hoping for the former.

Paul, however, seems to be enjoying our little ghost hunt. I'm not entirely sure what it is about this 'mission' that's made him quite so content with the search we're conducting - it's likely something to do with being able to infuriate Jesse simply by being in close proximity. Evidently charity cases, as he assures me often, are more my thing.

It's irritating having to put up with someone who always thinks they're right, especially when they are right a lot of the time. It's a shame I was born to resolve things with my fists rather than my mouth.

"Ah," Cee breathed as we made our way out of the French classroom, "free at last! Whatcha say, Suze, wanna come down to the Clutch with us?"

Adam and a couple of others peered at me over Ceecee's shoulder expectantly and I had to hold back a laugh.

"I'd love to, but I can't," I told her. "Jesse's waiting for me..." I felt a blush creep into my cheeks and simultaneously felt my annoyance rise. I called 'See you later' over my shoulder to a chorus of "Oooo-oooh"s from the rest of the group.

Pale eyebrows raised, Ceecee just stared at me for a minute before blinding me with the bright flash of her braces as she smiled.

"Oh, that's just fine, Suze," she said in a cheerfully suggestive tone that set the people around her laughing - all except Adam, who scowled.

Chuckling to herself, Ceecee waved goodbye to me and called 'see ya' over her shoulder as she watched me cross the school to the Mission's entrance, where it opened out onto the school parking lot.

"Simon!" a familiar voice drawled. "Not trying to ditch me, are you?"

Turning, I faced the owner of the voice looking, at best, bored, and at worst, pissed off. I wasn't sure which at that moment.

"No," I said aloud, "just hoping to avoid being stuck in a moving vehicle with you."

"Aw, Suze, I'm hurt. What've I done to earn your disapproval?"

"Would you like me to make a list?" I found myself asking, tartly.

He laid a hand over his heart and threw a wounded look in my direction.

"You kill me, Suze. Didn't I tell you I was behaving myself?"

"I didn't believe you - and I still don't, as a matter of fact."

"Hey, that's not fair. I haven't made any attempts to off your boyfriend recently, have I?"

He laughed at my expression. "Relax, Suze, I've barely seen Jesse around lately."

"Yeah, well, brace yourself." I muttered under my breath.

At that moment, Jesse pulled into the Mission's parking lot in the midnight blue car that Father Dominic has 'set him up with' just after he'd passed his driving test.

The mere sight of him was enough to make me smile, I guess, because Paul rolled his eyes and hissed something that definitely sounded like 'get a room'.

Smiling sweetly, I moved off towards Jesse leaving Paul to reluctantly trudge forwards somewhere behind me.

Jesse climbed out of the driver's seat with surprising ease, closed the door with a click and ran a hand through his hair absently. When he realised I was approaching, he looked up and smiled in a wau that made me both shiver and flush at the same time. Way to act like a little schoolgirl, I mused.

As usual, he bent down to kiss my forehead and murmured 'Hello, querida," in his gently accented English.

"Hi," was all I said, as I found that my breath had caught in my throat which made it pretty difficult to talk.

"How was your day?" he asked me with a barely perceptible glance over my shoulder at the teen tennis champ waiting with raised eyebrow and bored expression.

"The usual, nothing scarier than the social hierarchy of an American high school."

Which, if you think about it, is pretty damn scary. I wasn't about to dampen the mood and tell Jesse that, though.

"And how's he been?" Now he was staring directly at Paul with what could be considering a calculating gaze.

Finding myself a little stuck for words, I simply shrugged and said, "He's being himself, minus a bit of psychopath. I guess we can't ask for much more than that."

Something I said must've struck him as humorous, 'cause he cracked a smile and lead me around the other side of the car so he could open the door for me. I slid into my seat while raising my eyebrows at him, a small reminder that his manners are, in fact, two centuries old and counting. He took no notice, of course, but it's the thought that counts.

A few yards away, Paul Slater was observing our interaction with more than a little amusement. I guess I'd been a little presumptuous when I figured we'd all be playing nice and getting along while ghost hunting; apparently, the supernatural isn't enough for my boyfriend and his arch-nemesis to co-operate for a couple of hours.

Jeez, guys are such children.

Seventeen Mile Drive looked the same as it had the last time I'd been down this way. Same nightmarish hairpin turns, same countless rows of mansions for the rich and the antisocial, and, most noticeably, some of the most breathtaking views of the North Pacific.

I don't know how many times I've caught a glimpse of the sea and held mu breath, but I've lived here just over a year and it still surprises me.

Anyway, back to the mission at hand.

The Pebble Beach Hotel & Golf Resort can be summed up in two words that are true for anyone whose surname is not Slater: extortionate luxury. I swear, the people in there live like royalty - and the people who work there don't get paid too miserably, either. I should know.

As we pulled onto the front of the Resort, I had a hideous flashback full of navy swimsuits and pleated shorts. Shuddering, I exited the car, barely noticing Jesse as he came around to stand beside me and wait for the shiny BMW that was sure to pull up somewhere close by.

When the Ghostbusters were all present and correct, we headed inside, me taking the uncomfortable lead with Jesse barely a step behind me and Mr I-Just-Jumped-Off-The-On-site-Tennis-Courts casually strolling in about ten minutes or so behind us.

Before I had a chance to wonder where to start looking for our mystery girl, Jesse walked up to the main desk in a leisurely manner and quickly caught the attention of the twenty-something-year-old woman ho suddenly seemed much more engaged in her work.

"Excuse me, do you have a reservation under the name of Vetris?"

"Um, sorry?" the woman blinked, then blushed an interesting shade of scarlet.

"A reservation," Jesse repeated with a measured patience, and with none of the tell-tale signs of annoyance that I would've displayed openly. "Do you have one under the name of Vetris?"

"Oh!" After hitting a few buttons on the computer keyboard that was obscured by the desk itself, the woman shook her head apologetically and turned back to Jesse. "I'm afraid not, sir. Are you looking for someone?"

"Ah... Thank you, but we'll be quite fine. We're waiting waiting for a friend; we're simply unsure of the name she made her reservation under. Good day."

As he turned to leave, he gave the woman a fleeting smile, which caused her pallor to change to an even deeper shade of crimson. I, on the other hand, was still staring at Jesse in surprise when he arrived beside me and took my hand.

"I guess that we'll just have to hope Slater can recognise her by sight..." - he didn't sound particularly pleased with that idea, if I'm honest - "or just hope that the ghost herself appears."

"I don't particularly like either of those. Responsibility? Don't you know me at all?" Paul grinned at Jesse as he came to stand next to us. Unnerved, I spun around and glared at him until he raised his hands in a gesture of compliance and defeat, wearing a smile that said he would definitely not be apologising for making me jump - not any time soon, anyway.

"So," I started, half hoping that at least one of us would come up with an ingenious idea that would leave us free for the rest of the night, "anyone got any bright ideas as to where we're supposed to start the manhunt?"

"I'm not doing anything. Honestly."

"From you, Rhea, that's about as good as a promise from a con man."

"Wow, thanks. I've never been compared to the scourge of this great country before."

"Trust you to take it as a compliment..."

"Trust you to disbelieve everything I say just because I took a day out when Mummy said I had to stay home. I'm sat down relaxing, Mark, like you should be. It's California, for God's sake."

"We have stuff to do, Rhea, and you know it," he told me irritably, doing a jolly good impression of his sister.

"Not yet. Not me, anyway. Seriously, how much trouble can I cause while stuck up here?"

"Plenty, I'm sure. Goodbye, Rhea."

Click.

Ha! Me, trouble? The guy's gotta be kidding me.

Funnily enough, though, just as I was having the conversation, the elevator I'd been waiting for arrived. Despite what I'd told Mark, there was no was I was staying looked in my room - not any more. I had absolutely no intention of leaving the Resort's grounds, but all the same, I'm pretty sure the guy's gonna be pissed when he finds out I lied to him. Again.

Up until now, I'd not met anyone in the corridors that took me from the suite I shared with Mark and Jane - I'd just like to add here that, surprising as it may seem, ghosts take up an awful lot of space - which I counted as a good thing, for two reasons: firstly, I wasn't feeling too social, as evident by the conversation I've just had; secondly, the bluetooth headset I'f been wearing made me look as if I were talking to myself - either that, or I was heading off to work in a 'drive-thru'.

As I clicked the button for the ground floor, I slipped the headset off and pocketed it, vaguely wondering is I could slip back upstairs and into the quiet without anyone noticing I'd disappeared. Probably not, but I was sure to make a point of remaining optimistic - for now, anyway.

Boredom was my primary reason for leaving the familiarity of my rooms. Even I was getting fed up with the same four wall. I don't know what exactly I thought I was expecting downstairs, but I figures that even if nothing exciting was happening, I could always create a little drama. After all, there's nothing funnier than watching strangers simultaneously trying to keep their composure and bitch slap their opposition. In England, there was always the ongoing War of the Stereotypes, the most notable being Chavs vs Emos; here in America, however, I wasn't entirely sure what I was going to find, but I was certain it's be amusing - at least for the part of the audience that included me.

The elevator door opened and I flashed a dazzling smile at those who entered the lift as I exited it. The lobby of the Resort wasn't as crowded as I would've imagined, but then again it wasn't that late; people were dotted around, sorting luggage, talking to the oddly-dressed staff members. The last time I'd passed through this place, I hadn't been paying too much attention to my surroundings, I found, for there was an awful lot that I'd missed when I'd been coming and going before.

There was no doubt about it, the Pebble Beach Hotel was certainly the poshest and most expensive place I've ever stayed in. The fact that I have little to no understanding of the ratio of dollars to pounds, the bill for this place makes me shiver just to think of it.

As the reception came into view, I noticed things around the place that I'd not seen before: chairs placed conveniently for visitors, the spotlights on the ceiling and even the solemn pictures on the walls that made the whole place feel a little bit grander. The people lurking in corners all seemed to be conducting some kind of business or other; most were in sizeable groups, family units - all except what looked like three teens who seemed to be waiting for something - or, more likely, someone, I reminded myself. This didn't unnerve me until I saw the back of a curly head that made be frown in concentration until I realise where I'd seen the guy before.

The Mission. It was the kid who looked like he'd just ambled out of a Wimbledon game.

Doubling back quickly, I pretended to be interested in the extensive rack of leaflets and pamphlets I'd just passed without so much as a glance. Using this as a pretence to I could try and formulate a plan, I picked up the brochure for the Resort itself and turned again, the way I'd been heading before I doubled back, and made a beeline for a free seat not too far away. Sitting down gently, making sure that there was a chair between me and the forty-year-old man to my left (for the record, I chose him because he was the only person over the age of thirty who a) was on his own and b) didn't look senile). Casually, I leaned over the empty chair that separated us and, with a hand grasping the abandoned newspaper that rested there, softly spoke to him.

"Excuse me," I began in my most formal, educated, I'm-A-Really-Big-Girl voice. "You don't happen to have a pen, do you?" I smiled gently and waited for him to assess me and react with surprise.

After a moment he blinked, then attempted to answer me through a thin vein of confusion. I'll bet it was my accent. Throws them every time.

"I think so," he replied, his voice heavily accented. "Gimme a minute."

From one of numerous pockets he produced a biro, which he handed to me. I thanked him with a smile and folded the leaflet I'd collected in half so that the only bit exposed was plain white. On this, I wrote a single word and a combination on numbers before setting it aside and opening up the newspaper.

Okay, so it was a really, really bad disguise that's been done to death in the film industry.

It worked, though.

When I lowered the paper just enough to allow me to see over it, I couldn't see a single person watching me - let alone eyeing me with suspicion. A shame, 'cause if they had noticed me, it would've saved me having to draw attention to myself.

Coughing loudly enough to disturb the fairly quiet room, I dropped the paper onto my lap as I covered my mouth with a hand. Grasping it again, I folded it, then stood and walked back towards the elevators that were tucked in an alcove not fifty yards away.

As I walked away - quickly enough to warrant being followed rather than called after, but slowly enough to still be recognisable - I listened, carefully. At first, I heard nothing but the sounds that had existed in the room before; I was rewarded for my patience, however, when I was greeted with quick, shuffling footsteps that were quickly stopped, rustling of garments and the unmistakable sound of hushed voices. I continued, completely at ease, making sure I neglected to look back.

Sure, if it was me that these guys were looking for - and I had to assume it was - I needed to know, maybe I even needed to meet them.

But come on, how was I supposed to resist screwing with them?

The inactivity was annoying me greatly. If there's one thing I'm no good at, it's sitting and waiting. I am, however, very good at resolving situations with violence. Sadly, then, I found myself in a predicament were my particular skills were of absolutely no use whatsoever.

"So," I muttered loud enough that only Jesse and Paul could hear me, "someone remind me: why're we just standing around and doing nothing?"

" 'Cause there's nothing for us to do yet. Would you prefer to go door knocking for a couple of hours, Suze?" Paul asked lazily.

Looking sulky, I switched my attention from person to person in the room around us. No-one seemed particularly out of the ordinary or conspicuous, and no-one seemed to be surrounded by the melancholy that envelopes those the dead follow - hell, I didn't even see anyone resembling a ghost around the place. Unlike many of the places I've visited in my lifetime, it was perfectly ordinary, if a little extravagant.

Paul turned his head slightly as someone behind him coughed. As he shifted his weight, something seemed to catch his eye. I found myself watching him with a small frown as a smile curled the corners of his mouth and he uttered a single word.

"Bingo," he murmured to me and Jesse.

"What?" I questioned quickly, abruptly realising that he must've seen her - or at least something significant. "Where?"

"She's leaving," Jesse answered, following the figure carefully with his liquid eyes. It sounds stupid, but for the tiniest part of a second I felt jealous that I wasn't the focus of that gaze, While attempted to push this somewhat disturbing feeling aside, I sought for the figure both Paul and Jesse had found before me.

Note: I am not a sore loser.

The back of her dark, curly head was facing us as she moved away at a steady pace; a minute or so more and she'd disappear too and we'd likely find ourselves unable to find the path she'd taken back to her room.

Hastily, I started forward. Before I'd gone three steps, I felt Jesse's warm hand on my arm, holding me back.

"Hey, wait, she's disappearing-"

"You might not want to approach her directly just yet. The news we bring will likely startle her."

I hadn't thought of that. Pausing, I nodded once to Jesse, still wishing that I could do something other than lurking around the lobby uselessly.

A laugh close by made me jump. For the second time today Paul had crept up behind me while I was otherwise occupied. This is more than enough reason for me to maintain my dislike for him today, I felt.

"In the contrary, I'm pretty sure it's us that are supposed to be exhibiting surprise about now," he chuckled.

"What're you on?" I asked bluntly.

"Whatever it is, it's better than whatever you're on." he looked at me with just a hint of satisfaction. IN his hand he held a folded piece of paper with a room number written on it in small, neat handwriting.

I took it, turned it over in my hands, looking for something I couldn't quite put my finger on. Jesse looked how I felt: completely mystified at the turn of events.

"Where'd you get this?" I asked, bewildered.

"She left it behind on the chair she'd been in before. Guess she knew we were coming - either that or she knew who we are."

"You sound amused," I accused.

"So sue me," he whispered as he brushed past, heading off in the direction of, if my memory serves me correctly, the elevator shafts. Still no sign of the girl we were supposed to be locating. Nice of her to leave a postcard, though.

Why did I volunteer for this?

It took us a while to find the door to her suite. She could've been a little more precise, given us a floor number to go with her room. Seriously, we wasted almost half an hour simply looking for a floor that had a number close to hers.

When we did eventually find the right floor, the right door, Jesse knocked a few times, then stepped back to a polite distance. He'd murmured to me a short while before that he thought it'd be wise if she saw someone she recognised - and Paul was the only one of us that she'd seen outside of the Hotel. Neither of us were particularly comfortable with this resolution, but we didn't have a better plan, so we went along with it.

The door didn't open. There wasn't even a sound from behind it: no movement, no music, no voices, nothing. We waited, completely still, in the tense silence for any kind of sound that would betray the presence of a person. Still nothing.

I tossed my head, irritated, in such a way that reminded me of Kelly Prescott at her most haughty. I caught sight of something - someone, I amended - back down by the elevators. She was smiling slyly and leaning again the wall next to a decorative alcove, newspaper in hand - apparently, she'd been watching us ever since we'd arrived. All of a sudden, I wasn't feeling quite so sure of myself. Sure, she was small, but she'd just successfully outsmarted three of us.

"To be honest," she said, inspecting her fingernails casually, "I thought I'd already met the most unobservant people the world had yet to offer. You three just broke the record for being clueless."

As she made eye contact again, her smile widened and she seemed torn between an intelligent, calculating curiosity and a deep amusement.

"I'm glad at least one of us is having fun," I remarked dryly.

Arms folded, Paul had stepped back when I'd started speaking, seemingly favouring the role of silent spectator instead of active participant. Jesse had raised both of his black eyebrows at the newcomer but had made no attempt to speak to her or intervene in the conversation I was holding with her.

Okay, I thought. I guess I'm on my own.

"Oh, relax, I'm just screwing with you." The girl was so close to laughter I could practically hear it already.

"Relax? We've practically been turning Carmel upside down looking for you!"

"And, believe it or not, I'm pretty sure I just flew halfway around the world to find you."

Stunned, I couldn't even summon the words to ask why the hell she was looking for me and how she knew who I was. I certainly hadn't bothered introducing myself.

"Alright," she started walking slowly towards us and I took an instinctive step back to give her room as she reached out to unlock the door.

"You might wanna sit down for this, it's one helluva long story."

AN: Hallo!

Yes, I know, it's been an insanely long time since I updated. Life got busy, okay? =P

Anyway, Suze & Rhea are back now, so you can enjoy that. If you managed to keep up with the switching and changing of the POVs, I salute you. I couldn't. My brain really is too small for that.

Thank you to all my reviewers, new and recurring, especially I want to be Jesse's girl: your review actually blew my head off. That's why I took so long writing this - I had to go searching for my head.

(That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)

Goodbye and goodnight folks, I'll see you in the afterlife.

Or the next chapter. Whichever comes first. ;)