I gritted my teeth. “Seriously? I'm trying to do my job here.” Or at least pretend to, anyway. But I was rapidly losing patience with Misty and her softheartedness. True, she had no idea what was really going on, but even so, this ghost had been haunting her, terrifying her for who knew how long, and she wanted to hang around and have a chat?
“I know,” Misty said. “But I just wanted to say… Alona, for what it's worth, I am sorry.” With pleading in her eyes, she addressed a spot high on the wall above the bathroom door. How tall, exactly, did she think my ghost would be? “I shouldn't have done that to you, no matter how Chris and I felt about each other. And I would have told you eventually. I was just afraid that you would be so angry.…” She trailed off and looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her thumbnail. “I didn't want to lose you as my friend. I was selfish. I wanted you both. I never wanted to hurt you, and I'm even sorrier I didn't get the chance to tell you that before. I hope you can forgive me.”
I stared at her, stunned. There it was. The apology I'd been waiting months to hear but never expected to receive.
Misty took a deep breath and nodded, more to herself than to me, and walked out, her steps lighter, as if having said the words had cleansed her in some way or lifted a weight from her.
“Such devotion. It's adorable,” the ghost drawled. “She's been so upset lately.”
I whipped around to face her, reinvigorated suddenly. She was not Alona Dare. I was, no matter who I looked like. She shouldn't even
“So much hostility,” she said with an amused gasp. But she still moved back slightly, proving she wasn't as tough as she thought she was.
“You've gone to a lot of trouble to get my attention. What do you want?” I folded my arms, though I supposed any effort to make Lily look fierce was probably wasted. She was too cute, scar and all.
The ghost laughed. “What, Misty? That's just business.”
Which meant what, exactly? “What do you want?” I repeated. The more she dragged this out, the worse it was going to be. I could feel it hanging above my head, like the proverbial piano on a fraying rope.
The blur edged closer, and I caught a glimpse of dark red hair and brown eyes before the particles reshifted into a messy, undefined swirl. Was my ghost vision finally improving? That would be nice… or not.
“I'm here to make you an offer that is going to rock your world,” she said.
“Please.” I rolled my eyes, angry at her for playing me and at myself for falling for it. I'd walked right into her trap, and now I was stuck. She knew who I was, and the only thing stopping her from blabbing it all over the undead world was her own greed. She wanted something. The only question was what.
Actually, no, that wasn't the only question. Would I be able to do what she wanted? That was a good one. I wasn't Will. I was blind in this world and limited by a far less flexible situation at my current home. I couldn't go traipsing off to strange places, alone, in the middle of the night.
And here was the big question. What was she planning to do if I couldn't give her what she wanted?
My stomach ached at the thought. If word got out about me, I'd be flooded by ghosts, not only with final requests and messages but also with questions about how I'd done what I'd done with Lily — Body Wrangling 101. Like I had any satisfactory answers on that topic other than, “It just happened.”
Regardless of my knowledge — or lack thereof — the results would be the same. Eventually, I wouldn't be able to hide my “issues” from the Turners. And those rehab center brochures would lead to applications and being shipped off to Arizona or some other godforsaken place… if not worse. Will's mom had once come very close to having him institutionalized. In a neat little twist of fate, I could end up facing the same situation.
“Can we skip the buildup and cut to the part where you get to the point?” I snapped, fighting the urge to move farther away from her. I refused to give her the satisfaction.
“I'm going to be your spirit guide,” she said in a rush. “And we are going to rule this in-between place.”
I opened my mouth with an automatic “forget it” hanging on the tip of my tongue… and stopped.
I shook my head, confused. “What did you say?” I had to have heard her wrong.
“You're a ghost-talker. You need a spirit guide. I'm it,” she said, her voice full of pride.
“We're having this conversation, aren't we?” she scoffed.
