We stared at each other, and I realized that fake Dean wasn’t going to leave anytime soon unless I played his games.
So I went along with him. “Do you exist just to piss me off, dick-weed?”
He laughed, enjoying the hell out of himself. “Mostly. However, I do have other responsibilities.”
“You’re saying that I’m just one of many lucky targets.”
“I do stay busy.”
I kept staring him down, but it was hard when those sparkling light brown eyes were getting to me. The true Dean could always flip my stomach with a look and a cocky grin, just like this one.
And if he kept looking at me like that, I was going to forget he wasn’t my Dean.
I dragged my gaze off him, giving up. “What do you want from me? Just tell me once and for all.”
“Maybe we should couch this in different terms. If you could ask anything of me, what would it be?”
His switchback left me confused.
He continued. “I know what you’re up to with Elizabeth Dalton. You’re trying to solve a murder that isn’t your own, and that’s not normal ghost behavior, darlin’. Your kind is usually more self-involved.”
Chills flew up my spine. He hadn’t missed anything that had been going on with me, and it was like I’d been standing in front of a window at night, never realizing that there was someone outside watching every move I made. But, sick pup that I am, I was kind of turned on by that, because it was Dean. Or the closest I’d ever come to him again.
My voice sounded thick. “I suppose you’re going to help me solve Elizabeth’s murder because you’re impressed with my gumption or something. Is that why you’re hounding me?”
Sarcasm was still dripping from my words when he took a step closer.
“You’re different, and different makes my existence just as interesting as it makes any creature’s. That doesn’t mean I’m going to solve her murder—or yours—for you, though.”
“So why did you ask what I wanted from you?”
“I was truly curious to see if you’d request a solution to her murder or yours first.”
Bastard. “Gee, did I pass your test? If those are the kinds of traps you set up for your lucky targets, then you must be really bored in whatever land you come from.”
His face lost its amusement, and I knew I’d hit a target. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to verbally go at it with this thing like I was doing.
Then he tilted his head again. “Is it out of the realm of possibility that I might be a helpful kind of entity and I’m only giving you a hard time before getting down to business?”
That sounded ominous, so I zipped my lip.
Then he seemed to consider something and changed his tone, sounding like he was actually a rational being.
“It’s too bad that even my powers are limited. If I could’ve, I would’ve put you in contact with Elizabeth so you can ask her what really happened.”
“And what would be the cost of that?”
He only smiled, but it was a smile that mixed me up even more. It seemed sincere.
Was he experiencing an emotion other than amusement right now?
His tone softened. “Next time you see Amanda Lee, you might want to tell her that Elizabeth moved on immediately after her death.”
It took me a second to process that he’d just come right out and given me a huge piece of information without my having to sell my soul to him or anything. I’d been half fearing that this was the reason he kept stalking me and he was merely getting around to it in his own time.
Why had he just said this, though?
He took another step closer, and I could smell Dean again—soap, sea salt, skin. Oh, man.
He added, “Elizabeth is in the same place your parents are. Does that make you feel better?”
That’s when I welled up, my throat burning.
“Where are they?” I managed to ask.
He laughed gently. “That’s been your question of the day, hasn’t it? But I can’t tell you any more than you’ve learned. Not even I know what’s beyond us, because once you go there, you don’t come back. It might be heaven or hell, nirvana, or even a parallel dimension where everyone gets another chance in a reincarnated life.”
“You don’t even know?”
“No.”
I had the feeling he was lying to me, just as he might’ve been when he’d so “earnestly” told me about Elizabeth moving on. But I wanted to hear about my parents and decide for myself if he was telling the truth. I wasn’t about to sass him again.
“My mom and dad are happy?” I asked.
“Yeah, Jenny, wherever they are, I can guarantee it. I know a guy who knows a guy who knows that good people move on and get their just reward, like humans have always hoped.”
Now that I had a body, I was able to tear up, and my vision went bleary. Fake Dean became a watery blob of white T-shirt and blond hair. I didn’t want him to see me crying, though, and I turned away.
He was right behind me now. “Hey, I didn’t think that would make you weepy. That’s good news, isn’t it?”
I nodded, speechless, my throat scratched so thoroughly that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to talk again.
I could hear him breathing right behind me, and goose bumps covered my skin. If he put his hand on my shoulder, I might break apart. If he took one more step toward me, I might crumble.
Finally, I swallowed enough so that my throat was better. “Why’re you telling me these things?”
“Because you’ve wondered, and I just want to see you happy.” He blew out a breath. “Most of all, though, I don’t like to see you sad.”
I looked up and cuffed a rogue tear away from my cheek. Once, when real Dean and I had fought about something stupid—I couldn’t even remember what it was—he’d said those exact words to me.
This Dean’s words swayed me more than I would’ve liked.
He must’ve seen that in me, because he was more forthcoming now, like I’d let down my guard a little more than I should have and that’s what he’d been hoping for.
“And here’s more to keep you from being sad,” he said. “Just because Elizabeth Dalton was murdered, that doesn’t mean she had to stick around and haunt this plane. Not every spirit lingers or falls into a time loop. Sometimes there’s so much anguish connected to their deaths or the people they leave behind that they can’t stand the aftermath. Some spirits seek the light right away. Others go your route and fall into a numb imprint.”
I held my breath. Was he about to tell me something to do with my death?
When he put his hand on my shoulder, I didn’t shrug him off. He was so warm. Not even Gavin’s life force or a fire could match the glow this entity put in me. And, honestly, I sank into his touch ever so slightly, missing it so bad. Just wanting to relive Dean for a few more minutes.
His voice was low and quiet now. “You’re wondering about the night you died.”
I couldn’t even swallow because of the lump in my throat, so I only clipped out a nod.
“You don’t want to know,” he said. “And that’s because you’re not prepared to know. I’m not going to tell you, either, because I’ll be damned if I send you back into a loop with the shock of the details at this point.”
I found my voice. “I already saw the ax, the mask.”
When I shut the images right out of my mind, I guess that only proved his point, because his fingers bunched on my shoulder, massaging me, getting a better grip on me.
My gut wrenched, twisted, but in a way that heated me up even more.
I even forgot he wasn’t really my Dean, because sweet gestures like this had defined my old boyfriend. He would slide his hand over to cover my collarbone, moving his fingers gently, making me go weak, knowing that it would distract me from whatever issue was dogging me that day.
“If you won’t tell me about my murder,” I said, breathless, “then tell me about the Edgetts.”
His voice eased t
hrough me, all vibration and warmth. “You mean that Gavin guy?”
Jealousy?
Even that turned me on in a way it shouldn’t have, just like Gavin himself. Both of these guys were bad ideas, but maybe I’d been without men in my life for so long that I was a glutton for them, no matter who they were.
A beating instant passed as Dean’s touch got a little more possessive on my shoulder. I held back a small sound of pleasure.
Get away from him, my common sense was telling me. But common sense was a distant second to everything else right now.
“I’ll tell you one thing about the Edgetts,” he said. “Watch out. That girl Wendy captured your image on her camera phone.”
I recalled when she’d aimed her phone at me, then the flash. Shit.
“Tonight, she shared the pictures with Gavin,” Dean said.
His fingers branded my skin and I bowed my head, totally under his control.
Needing his touch so badly.
That was a ghost’s curse, wasn’t it? Needing what we couldn’t easily get?
His hand eased up to my neck, skimming over my flesh. My body responded, starving for touch after being robbed of it for so long. My skin prickled, my nipples tightened, the spot between my legs ached hard. My eyes closed, fighting it.
Go away, Jen. Don’t be stupid.
But I was staying, remembering Dean’s skin against mine. Remembering how he used to run his fingertips up my spine and down again, then kiss his way up my back to the nape of my neck, melting me.
Even though I had a body, I felt as if I was floating again. Rising, full of heat, dizzy with wanting . . .
In a haze, I opened my eyes, and I didn’t see grass or sidewalk around me anymore.
I saw purple. Stars floating past.
The star place?
Just as I started coming out of my lapse, I felt him holding on to me as we rose. And I saw that those stars were closer than before, and they had that strange shape I’d noticed during the first visit.
But now, so near, they definitely looked like . . .
Pale, glowing, hanging bodies?
Jarred, I screamed, breaking away from fake Dean, falling, falling through the purple . . .
As I tumbled through space, using all my energy to control my essence, he didn’t follow me. But why wasn’t he giving chase?
Rushing toward the ground, I thought for sure I was about to splat over the asphalt below me.
Pull up!
I summoned everything I had, curving up and scooping into the sky just before I could smack into the street.
Hovering, trembling, I heaved in a pseudobreath, realizing I was back in my old neighborhood, the streetlights yellow and wan. I looked up to the sky at the true stars, wondering what was actually hanging and glowing in the “star” place.
And why fake Dean had called himself a keeper instead of a reaper.
14
If there was one lesson I’d learned in these past twenty-four hours, it was that I couldn’t trust anyone but my new ghost pals.
Amanda Lee certainly wasn’t a finalist in my Inner Circle Sweepstakes. And do I really have to mention the entity that tried to seduce me up to his star place, just like a predator who invites women into his apartment and does heaven knows what to them?
I just wished I had the capacity to shrug off fake Dean as I’d done with Amanda Lee. But it seemed that he was intrigued by me and my different-strokes ghost attitude.
Even worse, those things he’d told me about Elizabeth, my parents, the afterlife, and the Edgetts had really done a number on my mentality. How much of his information had been valid and how much had he just been making up in order to lull me into a position vulnerable enough to take me to his star place? And what would happen the next time he tried to lure me with slick words and soft touches that he knew would undo me?
Boo World had more questions in it than even real life. All I knew for sure, though, was that the next time fake Dean appeared, I wouldn’t give him an inch. It seemed he needed me to come willingly every time he tried to get me to his lair.
Since I’d wasted enough time today, I sailed off to the Edgett mansion, even though fake Dean had warned me about Wendy’s camera pictures and how Gavin knew about them. We would see if Star Guy had been telling the truth about that, though, wouldn’t we?
When I arrived, Constanza the maid was standing in front of the guest cottage outside, unlocking the door. I guessed she lived there.
I swept over her head and she gasped, drawing her collar closer to her stout body. But I was already on my way up to the main roof and chimney, taking the passage down to the foyer fireplace and coming out into all that marble grandeur. I listened for a beat, and when I heard voices down the right-side hallway, I followed the sound.
I found three out of four Edgetts in the study, gathered around a pool table with balls scattered over the felt. A lone light cast illumination over the green as the rest of the room waited in dim relief. Noah was holding a cue stick, dressed in a school uniform like Wendy. Farah was in a pair of pink sweats, her dark hair in a sleek side ponytail, and she was wearing cute strappy pumps, which made no sense to me. Sweats were for working out, right?
Anyway, Gavin wasn’t here, but those books I’d seen in his dream last night sure were. They gave me the jeebs as the details rushed back.
Blood coming from his fingers over the chair . . . Elizabeth, walking into the room in her bathing suit, dropping a red-stained scarf to the floor . . .
“. . . so just leave it to Wendy to put him in another bad mood,” Noah was saying, lining up his next shot. His navy blue school tie was loose, his careless dark brown hair hanging over his forehead. His rosy-tan skin looked more flushed than it had the first time I’d seen him, like he’d been outside cutting class a lot.
As he cracked the cue ball into a solid one, putting it into a corner pocket, Wendy crossed her arms over her chest. Was it because she was fending off Noah’s comment or because I’d entered the room and she was cold?
“If you’re going to haunt,” Twyla the Unfriendly Ghost had told me, “commit to it.”
So I wouldn’t fear that I was being too obvious with my presence. I was beyond that now.
Noah straightened up, then hunted down another solid ball. “What did you show Gavin that put him in such a funk, anyway, Wen?”
She fidgeted. “Nothing much.”
But I knew. The photos of me.
So fake Dean hadn’t been lying about that.
I swept thoughts of him aside to think about later as Farah sat half on the edge of the pool table. For some reason, she looked sad, even with her CoverGirl makeup job.
“Gavin just gets in these moods, Noah—you know that.”
Her adopted brother sent her an assessing glance, his mouth firming into a straight line as he took another shot on the table, then missed.
Wendy seemed to be in her own orbit, as usual, wandering toward the sliding glass doors that overlooked the glowing pool outside. But instead of shutting out her siblings, she opened herself up.
“I only showed him something that I thought he’d actually laugh at,” she said. “Pictures.”
Noah snorted, like he was trying too hard to be flip. “Were they of you? I’d laugh.”
“Shut up, Noah.”
“I’m just being honest. He’s your big brother, not Wendy’s Super Special Teenage Crush. Stop trying to impress him with your dumb arts and crafts. He couldn’t give a shit.”
Wendy glared at him. “You’re disgusting.”
He didn’t notice that Farah gave him a look that was just as taken aback before she straightened her face and rose from the table.
I followed her, positioning myself against the wall, spreading over an art deco painting so I could be in front of her and monitor her expressions. I thought I already had a good emotional bead on Wendy.
But my maneuver didn’t pay off, because all I got from Farah was blankness while she pretended to diagnose
the sharp, colorful angles of the art.
Wendy had come back from the window to confront Noah. “You’re a real fuckroid sometimes. Why would you even say something like that?”
The kid shrugged. His whole demeanor had changed, his shoulders stiff, like he regretted going too far with his teasing but wasn’t about to admit it.
“God,” Wendy said. “This damned family. Sometimes I hate you guys.”
“That’s never obvious.” Back to normal, Noah went to put the cue stick back in its wall holder. “Maybe you should just trade us in, Wendy. Or maybe your real family will call from Beijing and want you back someday.”
“Maybe yours will ride across the border on a burro and pack you off.” She added something in Chinese, I think, and whatever it was, it sounded nasty.
As she rushed out of the room, she had a look on her face that told me she regretted what she’d said. Noah was back to regretting, too. But Farah?
She’d mentally checked out, probably so used to these arguments that she didn’t pay attention anymore.
As Noah came back to the table and shoved the rest of the pool balls into pockets, I wondered if Wendy would’ve carried through with describing to her siblings what’d been in those pictures she’d shown to Gavin.
Oh well.
Before Noah headed toward the door, he checked on Farah with a glance. When she didn’t acknowledge him, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, then went on his way, his hair hiding part of his eyes.
Farah rubbed her hands over her arms, still standing in front of me, clueless that she was looking at more than a painting. This might be a good time to try some empathy on her. I was feeling really strong tonight, thanks to the power surge I usually got whenever fake Dean touched me.
I eased away from the painting, and just before I reached out to touch Farah’s face, she pulled away, feeling my chill.
Then she shook her head, like she was telling herself it’d just been a gust of wind from a seal that needed replacing on a window, and ran from the room the best she could in those Charro pumps.
A burst of energy flew through me. Was it because of her fear?
Whatever, it felt good. Just like it used to feel to get a blast of adrenaline when I was in a close volleyball game.
Only the Good Die Young Page 17
