The sight of the man making his way down the driveway has a surge of adrenaline flooding my veins, and I shoot forward, only to crash into a—intonothingright at the threshold of the gate. I try again, hitting the same invisible wall, as if there’s a fence all around the boundary of the manor.
The thing in my stomach grows sharp claws that causes bile to curdle in my chest as I try, and try, and try, and try, ramming into that invisible wall each time.
My feet lead me round the edges of the property, where I test out every single possible way out, only to be met with the same resistance.
I don’t make it through the concrete fence or over it.
The same invisible wall keeps me trapped here, at Eldrith Manor.
With the man who killed me.
Because there’s no denying what I am now: a ghost.
6
Lynx
She won’t stop fucking crying.
The girl has been ruining my already sour mood for what must be hours.
My ears are fucking ringing.
Strolling around the top floor didn’t drown it out—not even when I went to the opposite side of the manor to keep hunting for a way out of this shithole. I was seconds from walking past the property line at a different angle, then appeared right back in front of the girl.
Like every other time, she was kneeling beside her corpse, sobbing, muttering a string of unintelligible words to herself.
Even with her swollen eyes and messy hair, I can acknowledge that she’s pretty. It’s not often I come across someone who makes me look at them for longer than a second; someone who makes me feel something other than disgust or fear. But it’s not something I’m going to think too much on given I feel like ripping out her vocal cords so she shuts the fuck up.
Leaning back in the armchair, I cross my ankle over my knee and watch the halfwit lose her shit—I manage a few brain-bleeding minutes before I feel like cracking her skull open. I screw my eyes closed and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“If you don’t stop crying and start talking, we’re going to have a serious problem here.”
I need to leave this place. I’ve likely left enough demonic residue from using my powers for a Tor’Oth to sniff me out. If the soul sucker doesn’t track me down and drag me back where I belong, I’m certain I’ll randomly burst into flames and appear there anyway.
In the meantime, I watch my little summoner and contemplate what I should do next. She’s afraid and confused and,shockingly, won’t look me in the eye. Me. Her killer. The reason she keeps walking through walls and blubbering even more about it.
What I want to know iswhy?
Why summonme? If she was just messing around, playing with forces she doesn’t understand, I might just kill her again for her stupidity. It wouldn’t be hard—I barely used much of my strength to snap that pale, slim neck of hers, and her head all but went rolling.
Yet again, she stumbles to her feet and dashes from the room. My head tilts to the side as she drifts back into the room through the wall after a few minutes of trying to leave.
Frozen in place, she stares at her hands, trembling in horror. Words seem to fail her as her pretty, pouty lips move yet make no sound.
Finally. Silence.
She should keep this up.
Unfortunately, I’m the one to break it.
“It seems we’re both trapped here,” I say.
The dead thing flinches, her frantic stare snapping up to me.
Fuck. Even her eyes—light brown—are pretty. They aren’t quite dead like her soul has left her body, but they almost look empty, like she’s never had a soul. They glisten with tears, and I watch as another one slips down her cheek, tracing her pale skin before curving into her lips.
Then the worst happens.
