It's like falling through water, the sensation disorienting and wrong. The world around me dissolves into nothing, colors bleeding together before everything snaps back into focus with a jarring suddenness. I'm sitting in a booth now, a vinyl seat beneath me, and I blink rapidly, trying to orient myself. My heart races as I look around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.
I'm in a restaurant?The little Italian place a few streets over, the one with the red tablecloths and the smell of garlic bread in the air. Some of my senses are available to me but I can’t feel anything. It’s very disorienting.
I blink a few more times and then look to my right, realizing I somehow transported myself to sit right next to Duske and across from my fucking sister.
"This is bullshit," I mutter, staring at my sister with barely contained fury.
Duske frowns, his head turning slightly in my direction though his eyes don't quite find me. He can sense me, I realize, but he can't see me. I wave my hand in front of his face experimentally, and he doesn't react, his gaze remaining fixed forward.
"Can you hear me?" I ask, raising my voice slightly. Duske nods, the movement so subtle that anyone else would miss it completely. But I catch it, and relief floods through me like a wave. The weird part is that Liora can’t. Not exactly the ghost powers I wanted, but it’ll do. "I don't know what happened or why I'm here," I say quickly, leaning closer to him, my words tumbling out in a rush. "I was about to get fucked, and now I'm here."
Duske smirks, the expression fleeting but unmistakable. I can see the amusement dancing in his dark eyes, even as he maintains his focused stare on Liora across the table.
"Did you tell her yet?" I ask, glancing at my sister with renewed hatred.
Duske clears his throat in response, and then his phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket with practiced ease, glancing at the screen before answering. "Yeah."
I can hear Vesper's voice on the other end, panicked and frantic in a way I've never heard from him before. "Duske, she's gone. One second she was here, and the next she just disappeared. I don't know what happened. I don't know how to—"
"She's here with me," Duske interrupts, his tone calm, a stark contrast to Vesper's panic. "Don't worry about it."
He hangs up before Vesper can respond, shoving the phone back into his pocket. I stare at him, my heart still racing from the sudden shift between planes, my mind struggling to catch up with what just happened.
"Can you see me?" I ask, even though I already know the answer from his earlier reactions.
Duske shakes his head, the movement once again slight that Liora doesn't notice. But I see it, and I sigh, slumping back against the booth in frustration.
Liora sits up a little, her expression eager and expectant, like a cat that thinks it's about to get cream. She's wearing that red dress she wore on prom night like ten years ago, the one that's way too low-cut, the fucker leaning forward like she's trying to give Duske a better view of her cleavage. It's pathetic, really, watching her try so hard for men who have never wanted her.
"So," she says, her voice bright and artificially cheerful. "Where are Vesper and Milo? I thought they were coming too."
"I told you they were busy, Liora," Duske says flatly, not even pretending to be interested in the conversation.
Liora pouts, her bottom lip jutting out in that way she thinks is cute. "But I wanted all of you here. This was supposed to be special."
"It's not," Duske says simply.
Liora blinks, her expression faltering as his words register. "What?" She clears her throat and sighs before switching the direction of the conversation. "I wanted to talk to you about something," Liora says, her voice dropping to what she probably thinks is a softer, more intimate tone. She reaches across the table, her hand moving toward Duske's in a gesture that makes my stomach turn, but he pulls back smoothly before she can make contact.
"I need to make something clear," Duske says, his voice taking on a firmness that leaves no room for argument. "Whateverplans you had for us, whatever you thought was going to happen, it's not going to work. We're not your mates, Liora. We're not going home with you after the funeral."
Liora's face goes pale, the color draining from her cheeks before flushing red with anger. "What the fuck?"
Duske leans back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest in a posture of complete control. "Your ruthlessness when it came to dealing with Esme's death was already concerning. But now that we know you killed your sister, there's no point in pretending."
Liora bangs her hand on the table hard enough to make the silverware rattle, the sound echoing through the restaurant. A few people turn to look, curious about the commotion, but she doesn't seem to care. "Who the fuck told you that? What weird ass exorcism shit were you doing in that house? Did Esme tell you that?"
I laugh, the sound bitter with vindication. Duske's jaw tightens slightly, the only sign that he can hear me even if Liora remains oblivious.
"God, she was always a jealous bitch," Liora continues, her voice rising with each word, her composure cracking. "Always trying to get between us, always trying to make you guys think I was the bad guy. But I wasn't! I was just trying to—"
"Trying to what?" I ask, leaning forward even though I know she can't hear me. "Trying to kill me so you could have them all to yourself?"
Duske leans back further, his expression shifting to something calm and almost bored, which I know will infuriate her more than anything. "Hey, no need to prove yourself to me. You can do that to the police when they finish the investigation."
Liora grimaces, her hands clenching into tight fists on the table, her knuckles going white. "You can't be serious. You're going to report me? For what? You don't have any proof!"
"Don't I?" Duske asks, letting the question hang in the air between them.
