Instead, I jagged to one side, trying not to trip through Lorde who snapped at the ghost, getting nothing but a muzzle of air.
Lu strode over. “What is it? Who is it?” she demanded. Anger rolled off her in a familiar wave that made me lean toward her, wanting even that emotional connection, if it was all I could have.
The ghost took another swing. The needleswhooshedright through me—
—and so did the rest of the ghost.
For a moment, weadhered, stuck in each other’s skin, fully on each other’s plane.
Every instinct told me to move, to run, to jerk away from that intimate touch, that vulnerable sharing of knowledge. But if I did anything too quickly, I could tear the ghost to shreds, and leave me in all kinds of lasting pain.
I held very still, claiming this space where our worlds merged, where we merged, grounding myself to the ghost’s realm of existence while staying grounded in my own.
She must have felt it, the hard focus of my thoughts andintentto support her, keep her vital, to protect her from the stupid thing she’d just done.
She stopped, reaching for my intent, and that was enough for the connection to complete.
I knew I had seconds to tell her how she and I were going to get out of this bear trap she’d gotten us into without either of us springing the teeth.
I also wanted to avoid the download of each other’s lives and memories.
That had only happened to me once, early on in this not-quite-dead life of mine. I’d rather it never happened again.
“My name’s Brogan Gauge,” I said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I apologize if I did. My wife is staying in this bedroom, and I wanted to know the locals she might be spending the night with.”
She hadn’t said anything, but she wasn’t screaming or trying to pull away. So far so good.
“Since you’re a ghost, and I’m not quite dead, occupying the same space as we are can be a little tricky. If we try to part too quickly, it’s gonna hurt a hell of a lot and neither of us are going to be the better for it.”
I could feel the moment she understood what I was saying. She knew it was the truth because the windows between our minds and souls were slowly cracking open, and my thoughts were leaking out, easy for her to hear.
I heard hers, too, though I didn’t want to. I had enough pain and guilt and anger in my long, long life-ish. I didn’t need to be carrying someone else’s along with mine.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
Her thoughts tumbled, faint voices: a woman’s, a man’s, calling her name in a hundred different tones. Most of them happy, most of them good. But a few…a few were rage.
Family was a complicated thing.
“Stella,” she said. I was surprised at her soft and lovely voice.
“Stella,” I repeated as her memories washed by me. If I kept my vision sort of soft focused, I wouldn’t have to see her—
—playing in the creek, tadpoles tickling her ankles—
—jumping on the back of a boy with broad shoulders and laughing as he spun her around and around until she was dizzy and clinging—
—the road, the rain, all the blood—
—her sister crying at the funeral home—
—memories.
I inhaled, exhaled, letting the emotional wave that came with each of those memories wash over me. It wasn’t easy. Emotions had a way of lingering and leaving a stain. I’d wondered if part of why so many ghosts roamed the world was because of those emotions, anchoring them to the world, locking them down, feeling by feeling.
“So we’re going to be just fine, Stella. We’re both going to be just fine. All we have to do is agree to let go of each other. Best way to think of this is we’re gonna move back one step, holding our arms out, fingers stretched.”
Truth was, I didn’t know the best way to do this. I’d only gotten stuck with one other ghost and had made it a point to avoid repeating that experience ever since.
