01_-_The_Alchemyst

“Could you tell me where I am?” Perenelle asked.
“You’re in the basement of the corporate headquarters of Enoch
Enterprises, just to the west of Telegraph Hill. We got Coit Tower almost
directly overhead,” he added proudly.
“You seem very sure.”
“Should be. I worked here for thirty years. Wasn’t always Enoch
Enterprises, of course. But places like this always need security. Never one
breakin on my watch,” he informed her.
“That’s an achievement to be proud of, Mr….”
“It surely is.” The ghost paused, his image flickering wildly. “Miller.
That was my name. Jefferson Miller. Been a while since anyone asked for it.
How can I help you?” he asked.
“Well, you’ve been of great assistance already. At least I know I am still
in San Francisco.”
The ghost continued to look at her. “Did you expect not to be?”
“I think I may have slept earlier; I was afraid I might have been moved
out of the city,” she explained.
“Are you being held against your will, ma’am?”
“I am.”
Jefferson Miller drifted closer. “Well, that’s just not right.” There was a
long pause while his image flickered. “But I’m afraid I can’t help you—I’m a
ghost, you see.”
Perenelle nodded. “I know that.” She smiled. “I just wasn’t sure if you
knew.” She knew that one of the reasons ghosts often remained attached to
certain places was because they simply did not know that they were dead.
The old security guard wheezed a laugh. “I’ve tried to leave…but
something keeps pulling me back. Maybe I just spent too much time here
when I was alive.”