The Ghost Files 3 Page 6

  “I’m trying!” He glares at me and sit down on the porch. “You like him, don’t you?”

  “Why does that matter?” I ask. “You’re with Meg. And if I do like him, then you’re going to have to deal with it.”

  “Like you’re dealing with me and Meg?” he counters.

  Well, fudgepops. He has me there. Anytime I think about Meg, I see red. “It’s different,” I say stubbornly. “Eli is your brother and Meg was my best friend. Blood trumps friendship.”

  “That’s such a lame argument. It makes things worse because he is my brother.” Dan looks up at me, the confusion plain in his eyes. I remember feeling like that three weeks ago when I discovered he and Meg were going out.

  I sigh and sit down beside him. “Dan, do you ever think you and I got our wires crossed somewhere along the way?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you jealous because I like Eli or just concerned because you don’t trust your brother?”

  “I…I don’t know,” he admits. “I never really thought about it like that.”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about this,” I say, taking a deep mental breath. “I love you, Dan. I really do, but I don’t get butterflies-in-my-stomach, ‘I’m in love’ feelings when we’re together. I don’t have this insane urge to touch you, to feel your skin against mine.” I ignore his rolling eyes. “I’m serious, okay? With you, it’s more like a feeling of safety, like I know you’ll always protect me, like you’re my…brother.” The words come out slowly and I realize it’s true. Dan is warm and safe, what I’d imagine a brother would feel like. “I grew up with people who never loved me, Dan, and I didn’t know what love felt like or that there were different kinds of love. I latched onto you, trusted you, and it all got jumbled up and confusing.”

  “You and me both, kid.” Dan lets out a sigh. “Maybe we did get all confused. I do want to protect you and keep you safe. I go into a rage when I think of someone hurting you, especially when that someone is me. I love you, and seeing you and Eli together bothers me, but I think it is because I don’t trust him. You’re right, though. I don’t get those butterfly-feelings about being with you, but I do with Meg. Somewhere along the way, Meg crept up on me. I really like her, Squirt.”

  Fudgepops. “Then, I guess I have to get along with her, huh?” I ask softly.

  “Only if you expect me to get along with my brother.” He gives me a crooked grin.

  “The pair of us are screwed, aren’t we?” I laugh. “Neither of us wants to budge on those two fronts.”

  “Let’s agree that I will stop trying to find ways to legally murder my brother if you’ll stop breaking Meg’s face every time you see her.”

  We have to settle this somehow, but not immediately. Right now, Dan is my friend and it’s enough. Maybe later, after we both grow up a little, it might be different. He’s hung up on my age and I’m hung up on not having butterflies. Maybe we’re supposed to just be friends first. They do say the best romances are those that start out as friends. Who knows, a year from now, we might look at each other and have those crazy insane feelings, or it might be a different kind of romance, one born out of friendship, that’s warm and fuzzy and not all crazy up-in-the-air bursts of desire. I shake my head, even to me it sounds crazy. Who would pick warm and fuzzy over fireworks? I’m pretty sure Dan and I will never be anything more than friends. It just doesn’t feel right thinking about him in any other way.

  “I’m not apologizing to her,” I finally say. “That’s a warning. She shouldn’t have sounded so callous and blasé about…stuff. That really set me off.”

  “I didn’t think you would apologize.” His smile broadens. “You’ve grown up a lot since I met you, Squirt, but you’re still a vindictive little thing.”

  “Don’t you forget it, either,” I say and give him my best snarkiest grin that’s full of teeth. “Come on, let’s get back inside. We’ve got murders to solve.”

  He stops me before I open the door. “You gotta know something. No, I need you to know this. If it had come down to a choice between you and Meg, I’d have picked you, Squirt. You’re that important to me.”

  “Me, too,” I whisper and kiss him on the cheek. “Me too, Officer Dan.”

  Eli and Caleb are munching sandwiches when we go back inside. Eli looks up and gives me a goofy grin full of food. I scrunch up my face. Why are boys so gross?

  “Mouth closed,” Caleb sighs when he sees his brother. “You’d think Mom never taught you any manners.”

  Eli just shrugs and shovels more food into his mouth. Dan grabs a paper plate and loads it with three subs himself. He takes a seat next to Eli and starts to inhale his own food. The two of them look like they’re in an eating contest.

  Caleb just shakes his head in disgust at both his brothers. “Mattie, Eli told me about what happened earlier. There’s an old rune I think will work, but I need to study it and make sure the changes I make to it are right.”

  “How can you tell if you get it right?”

  “Won’t really know till we try it out.” He shrugs. “Eli will ink you when I finally settle on the design. He’s better at it than me.”

  “Is there anything I can do to keep the ghosts out of the house?” I ask. It’s something I’ve been wondering about for a while. I figure if anyone knows about ghost-prevention, the Malone brothers do.

  “You can salt all the windows and doors,” Caleb answers. “If someone breaks the salt line, though, it becomes useless.”

  “Salt?” Mary asks curiously. “Why salt?”

  “Salt is a natural absorbent.” Caleb grabs the last sandwich before Eli does. “It basically absorbs the energy the ghosts give off and acts as a natural barrier because of it.”

  I never would have thought of that, but yeah. They always use salt in the movies. It’s a pretty common occurrence, so that research had to have come from somewhere. I must borrow Mary’s laptop and Google it.

  Dan’s phone buzzes and he pulls it out. After a second, he takes his plate and phone outside. I’m guessing it’s either Meg or his dad.

  “Where’s your mom?” I ask Mary while we both watch Eli eat. It’s quite an amazing feat that anyone can consume that much food so fast.

  “She had to swing by AT&T. Her phone is on the fritz and she’s hoping they can fix it. Caleb offered to bring me home when I reminded Mom you didn’t have a key. He said he’d need to pick up his brother, anyway. Does he always eat like that?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Caleb says. “He’s taken down some of the best hot-dog eating champions in the country.”

  “Really?” Mary asks, fascinated.

  “I’m a growing boy with a healthy appetite,” Eli says after he swallows the last bite and then eyes Caleb’s food. “You going to eat that?”

  “Touch it and die,” Caleb threatens.

  Eli shrugs and then notices me. “Did you eat, Hilda?”

  “You ask me now? After you’ve just obliterated half a dozen sandwiches? Oh, by the way, Sandwich-Hog, you’d better think about maybe saying ‘Thank-you, Mary, and can I help you clean up this mess?’ Or I will clobber you.”

  Mary is emphatically shaking her head no to my offer of his help. I don’t think she wants him anywhere near the fridge. Not that I blame her.

  He looks sheepish. “Sorry. Do you want me to make you one?”

  Caleb stares at his brother like he’s lost his mind.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I’m good. Just watching you eat made me lose my appetite.”

  “You’ll get used to it.” Eli grins.

  “That implies you and I are going to be spending time together,” I say. “Not gonna happen.”

  “Oh, Hilda, it’s so gonna happen.” He winks at me. “I guarantee it.”

  “I would have to like you to spend time with you,” I say, and then enunciate, “Since. I. Don’t. Like. You…I don’t see that happening.” Then I finish with a glare.

  “You seriously wound me, Hilda.” He fa
kes a shot to the heart.

  “He’s adorable.” Mary giggles.

  “He’s a pain,” I say. “And don’t call me Hilda!” The warmth in my cheeks says my blood pressure is starting to rise.

  “Elijah,” Caleb warns. “Lay off. Unless you want to get thrashed. Again.”

  “Why not, Hilda? It is your name.” Eli stands and makes the mistake of swaggering over to me. “Hilda.”

  He doesn’t see it coming. Poor boy. My fist lands in his gut and as he doubles over, I bring my knee up and smash it into his nose. Very reminiscent of this morning’s fight with Meg, but hey, it works. He falls to the floor and I glare down at him, not mocking for once. “Don’t. Call. Me. Hilda! Get it?”

  Dan has come in by this time and starts laughing. Even Caleb is chuckling, but Mary is sputtering. “Mattie! You can’t just hit people because…because…well, just because!”

  “Sure I can, Mary,” I tell her, unable to avoid a smirk. “I’m a product of foster care. No one will blame me for it. They’ll put me in therapy where I’ll say I have mommy issues and they’ll say I just needed someone to talk to in order to resolve my anger. All neat and tidy.”

  “Or your dad can make a call,” Dan says wryly.

  “Huh?” I ask. My dad…oh, my dad. Him. “What does he have to do with anything?”

  “That was Meg on the phone. She won’t be pressing charges. In fact, her father is insisting she apologize to you after getting a phone call from Ezekiel Crane. Her dad apparently freaked.”

  Whoa. “No way,” I shake my head. “Her dad’s the mayor. Mr. Crane isn’t even from around here. He can’t have that kind of clout up here in Charlotte.”

  “Your dad’s a scary-freaky dude, Hilda.” Eli is still lying on the floor, holding his gut. “He has money, too. I’m betting that goes a long way no matter where you’re from.”

  Dan catches me around the waist and spins me around before I can kick his brother in the ribs. “You seriously like to get beaten up by girls, don’t you?” Dan asks.

  “Nah,” Eli rolls over and then stands. “I just like irritating this one. I need to watch out for that left hook of hers, though.”

  “And on that note, I better get him out of here before Mattie really does hurt him,” Caleb sighs. “Mary, it was nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” She grins at him, trying her best to hide the dreamy look in her eyes and failing miserably.

  “Mattie, I’ll call when I get the tattoo worked out, okay?” Caleb winks.

  “Thanks, Caleb.” I give him a hug and my best smile. He ruffles my hair.

  “Let’s go, Elijah.” Caleb hauls him up by an arm and smiles when Eli winces.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mattie,” Eli promises, also giving me a wink as he follows his brother out.

  “I gotta go, too,” Dan says once they’re gone. “Dad called. He’s trying to get Mom out on bail again, and wants me to go before the judge. Maybe I can help.”

  “Of course,” I murmur and give him a hug. It feels good just to hug him with no resentment or anger simmering. I’ve missed him, missed this.

  “See ya tomorrow, Squirt.” He ruffles my hair much the same as Caleb did and leaves. The two of them are so much alike, it’s scary, and neither realizes it. Or maybe they do and won’t admit it. Either way, I see it and will do what I can to make sure they at least learn to tolerate each other.

  After I help Mary clean up from lunch, I beg off to my room with a headache. It’s been an exhausting day and all I really want right now is a hot bath and a nap. My new room comes with a shared bathroom. Mary’s room is on the other side of it. Now that Eli’s gone, my furnace has disappeared and I’m cold. Ever since the bombardment of ghosts that hit me when I arrived in New Orleans—the City of the Dead, as some call it—I’ve been freezing, unable to get warm unless he’s around.

  A sigh of relief escapes when I shut the door. I love Mary to death, but she’s a chatterbox. Normally, it doesn’t bother me but today I don’t have the patience. Between the airport fight, ghost attack, police station, and then meeting my dad, I’m wrecked. I need a few minutes alone to think. Is that really too much to ask?

  “Ah, my darling girl, I didn’t think they’d ever leave,” a man’s soft voice says.

  Silas. My head snaps up. Silas sits on my bed, twirling a purple pillow between his hands.

  I guess a few minutes alone really is too much to ask.

  How am I going to explain a demon in my bedroom?

  Chapter Eight

  Silas looks completely at home sitting on my purple comforter surrounded by the little lavender throw pillows Mary piled on my bed. He isn’t what I imagined a demon to be. For one thing, he’s gorgeous—I mean, he has fall-to-your-knees, salivate at the mouth hotness. Think Johnny Depp at around twenty-five. Not that Johnny Depp looks like he’s aged very much over the years. Secretly I think he’s some kind of supernatural creature. I mean, really, who could look thirty for twenty years?

  Back on track, Mattie, I remind myself. Then Silas just smiles wider. That’s what does it to me—those black eyes burning with delight. His dark coloring blends beautifully with the lighter shades of purple and lavender bathing my room. Today, he’s wearing faded jeans that look softer than even my oldest and most-worn pair. His cream-colored button-down only enhances his dark good looks. I can certainly see why so many have fallen for him over the centuries. He is an absolute hottie with a wicked smile. The only thing it inspires in me at the moment, however, is a healthy dose of fear.

  “What are you doing in here, Silas?” I hiss, going on the offensive. Best not to let him know how much he scares the bejeezus out of me.

  “My darling girl, you don’t sound happy to see me.” He tosses the pillow back on the bed and then gets up to prowl the room. “I didn’t peg you for a purple girl.”

  I’m not,” I answer shortly. His arm sweeps the room in question and I wince in response. “My foster sister decorated it.”

  “You haven’t changed it?”

  “As if I’ve had time?” I shake my head. Before I went to New Orleans, I’d told Mary she could keep it purple if she kept Dan and Meg away from me until I left. She’d held up her end of the deal, so I can live with purple. For a while.

  “Already making deals.” He beams at me. “Though we’ll have to work on you getting the better end of it.”

  “I did get the better end of it…” Then I pause and gape. What does he mean? ‘Already making deals?’ How did Silas get into my thoughts?

  “Don’t look so shocked, Emma Rose.” Silas sits down in the too-short chair in front of the vanity mirror. “You’re only doing what comes naturally to you.”

  “I don’t know what your game is,” I snarl, fear making me lash out, “but I’m not playing.”

  “Ah, but you were a player the moment you were born,” he says and examines the nail polishes lined up against the mirror. “This is a very girly room. Not your style at all.”

  My mind is racing, balking at what he’s implying. He’s really in my head? There is no way… “What do you want?” I demand.

  “I am here to offer my services.” He abandons the vanity and goes over to the open trunk at the foot of my bed I’d stashed sketch pads in. His eyes light up at the discovery. After leafing through the first one, he pulls more out and settles back onto the bed. “No need to have those boys attempt to get the rune right when I can do it for you. Nasty business having to feel everything a ghost went through as they died.”

  “I don’t want anything from you,” I reply, hoping I sound sharp enough. No way am I making deals with a demon. Not in a thousand lifetimes.

  “Beautiful,” he murmurs. His fingers caress the images in my sketchpad. “Your work is haunting. You have so much talent, Emma. I can make you the most famous artist of this age if you’d like.”

  “No, I wouldn’t like,” I answer, my insides trembling. “If my work is good, then it’ll stand on its own merit.” Upsetting Silas might be
a bad idea.

  “That’s what Rembrandt and Picasso thought, too,” Silas chuckles. “Remi used to always make me laugh. He’s not having a good time anymore. Though to be fair, one’s flesh being stripped away every minute of every day for an eternity can definitely kill your sense of humor.”

  My mouth drops open. Rembrandt made a deal with him? And he’s paying for it now? No way. Silas is just exaggerating. Isn’t he?

  “The boy is a complication, though,” Silas says thoughtfully. “I didn’t see that.”

  “The boy?” I ask. Is he talking about Dan or Eli?

  “Never you mind, my darling girl,” he answers with a grin. “It’ll sort itself out. What did you think of your father?”

  I blink. He keeps throwing these curveballs at me. It’s disconcerting. “I only just met him,” I hedge.

  “You can’t trust Ezekiel Crane.” He puts my sketchpads back, except for one. “There is a reason your mother took you away from him.”

  Wait, what? My mother…does he mean Claire or my real mother? Did she give me to Claire? Or Amanda, rather. It’s still hard to think of my mom, Claire Hathaway, as Amanda Sterling. Why would my mother do that? It’s very confusing.

  “So, who should I trust?” I ask, frustrated.

  “Me, of course, you silly girl.”

  “You’re a demon,” I point out. “A demon who makes deals in exchange for God knows what. Why should I trust you?”

  “My services are in high demand,” he tells me proudly. “Especially in today’s market. There is creativity everywhere and I love the arts. I am paid in a variety of methods, Emma. You’ll become familiar with them soon enough. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”

  “Why do you keep saying that?” I demand. “You’re acting like…like I’m a…” I couldn’t say it.

  “A demon?” he queries softly.

  I glare in answer.

  Silas only smiles. “If you trust no one else, trust me, Emma Rose. I’ve put too much time and effort into your…development only to lose you now. I’ll only inflict harm upon you if the situation forces me to.”