Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“Step two is you let the tea work.”
I don’t have time for this. “And then??”
“And then once properly and safely submerged in the Realm of the Dead, you politely ask your greedy ghost friend to rescind his claim on your soul.”
Byron looks at me meaningfully.
I gaze back, biting my lip.
Mrs. Shaheen glances at each of us. “What is it? Is there a problem? I haven’t mastered mindreading yet, darlings, speak up.”
“It’s … It’s just that …” I frown. “Westley is gone. Missing. I … I don’t know where he is.”
Her eyes grow double. All humor leaves her face. “Gone? What do you mean gone, Mr. James? Explain.”
“After we left your shop, West and I … got into a bit of a disagreement about what to do. He thought he was hurting me by staying inside of me, like you said he was. So he wanted to try leaving my body outside of the apartment, which is something we never did before—”
“Why not?” she asks, squinting.
I shrug. “Because he died here. He normally can’t leave this apartment unless he’s inside me.”
“But he didn’t die inside the apartment,” she points out rather matter-of-factly. “He died outside of it, falling from the fire escape.”
I stare back at her, speechless. “You’re … right,” I mutter. How did West and I not realize this before? “So why did it feel like he was always stuck here within these walls? Why couldn’t he leave on his own before?”
“That’s his question to answer,” she says. “But if I had to guess, the ghost is just clingy and afraid. That’s the nature of all ghosts. They cling to what they had, to what they lost, to what they most envy.”
There is so much to unpack here. “Well, he can’t answer any question if he’s still missing. So what do we do? How do we fix this?”
She sighs. “The inconvenience of the ghost being missing merely adds an extra step to our process.”
“What extra step?”
She eyes Byron. “Are you going to drink your tea already, or am I going to have to IV you? My brother’s ex-girlfriend’s niece’s roommate’s mother is a nurse, and I am not afraid to utilize that contact.”
I put a hand on Byron’s shoulder. “Let’s just try to see if—”
At once, the Byron I’m touching isn’t Byron at all.
He’s a skeleton, decayed, flesh rotten and dripping from his weathered bones.
Instead of eyes, two burning pits of white fire.
I back away from him with a shout, eyes wide, my heel kicking against the wall behind me.
The next instant, Byron is himself again. He rushes up to me. “Babe?? You okay??”
I blink away the terrifying image. It isn’t easy. That scary-ass shit burns into your retinas like the midday sun. “Wh-What the … What the fuck did I just see??”
Unaffected, Mrs. Shaheen sighs. “The Deathies.”
“Babe, you’re shaking all over,” murmurs Byron worriedly as he brings a hand to my forehead. “A-And cold as ice … even colder than before …”
Still against the wall with Byron touching me, I turn my pale, freaked-out face to Mrs. Shaheen. “You said my days are numbered?? What the fuck does that mean? What happens if we don’t do anything?”
As if the woman has suddenly become bored of the whole ordeal, she shrugs. “Probably die. Or another fate worse than death? I don’t imagine half souls are meant to survive on their own. They probably wither away and die, like half a tree, or half a cow … look, I don’t know, child, my knowledge stops there.”
That’s convenient. “I could die? Really?”
“To be fair, any of us could die at any minute. It’s a deadly world out there.”
I’m trembling. “What exactly do we do?”
“The only thing you can,” she answers simply. “Go into the Realm of the Dead and find him.”
My blood runs ice cold. Is any of this even real? Maybe I’ll wake up, it’ll be my wedding day, and none of this will have happened.
“I …” My throat tightens up. I suppress a shiver. “I don’t want to do that.”
“You really have no choice.”
“Mrs. Shaheen …”
“It’ll only get worse. You’ll continue to grow cold. Go into hypothermia eventually. Your eyes will start to only see death in our living world. Quite ugly, really.”
Before I can mutter another word, Byron gulps all of his tea. When he sets the cup down, I realize his face has tightened with determination.
He wasn’t taking this seriously before.
He is now.
“I drank your stupid tea,” he says. “Now what?”
Her eyes flick back and forth between us. “Now, the pair of you must lie down side-by-side. I will tie your left hand to his right hand,” she says, pointing at each of us, “and then I suppose we wait for you both to die a little.”
Byron and I shout, “Die a little??” in unison.
“It’s only temporary, goodness, no need to panic. What do I look like to you? A murderer?” She rolls her eyes. “Look, my initial plan involved you staying here in the apartment to demand that the ghost relinquish the piece of Griffin’s soul he has, but I suppose you will need to leave the apartment now and actually find the ghost first, wherever he is.”