“Marry me.”
I let out a surprised cackle. “No, you impulsive weirdo.”
“Please? Big ol’ wedding, you and me.”
“We can’t afford a wedding right now—you don’t have a job.”
“We could elope.”
I back up so I can fully regard him. “Wait. Are you serious? You haven’t even met my mom yet. You could completely change your mind about me once you meet her.”
“I highly doubt that.” He sits up on the bed on his knees. “Come on. Marry me. It doesn’t have to be right away. We can have a nice long engagement.”
I bite my lip. His eyes are soft and vulnerable. He means this. I climb up onmy knees to face him. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay! Yes, you fiend. I’ll marry you.”
He tackles me back into the bed, placing kisses on every spot he can reach. “The future Mrs. Tonkitgrol Mitchell.”
I giggle as he keeps attacking me with his mouth. “You are not making that your legal name!”
“I can do whatever I want. You’re talking to a fearsome, former demon, my fiancée.”
I roll my eyes and pull his lips to mine. “I’m so happy you found me.”
“I’m so happy you let me in.”
epilogue
. . .
One Year Later
“Is thereanyone here with me right now?”
I sit on a cold and creaky hardwood floor in the middle of an empty house surrounded by stationary night vision cameras, a thermal camera, a cameraman with his own shoulder camera, and one of the members of my team, Frank. Frank’s great. Doesn’t actually believe in ghosts, which is weird considering all we’ve seen by now, but he’s great.
The flashlight is set up in front of me. I’ve already explained to any potential ghosts, and viewers, how the flashlight works. I shift slightly to relieve the itch the mic is supplying.
The light does not flash, but there is a knock on the wall.
“Was that you?” I ask. “Because if you’d rather knock, we can do that. Same system. One knock for yes, two for no.” I look at Frank, and he shrugs. I keep talking. “So, let me ask again, is there anyone here with us right now?”
One knock on the wall.
I keep asking the ghost questions and eventually bid them a goodbye.
“Was that evidence enough for you, Frank?”
He scratches his gray beard. “Could have been the pipes.”
“Talkative pipes,” I quip back.
Not believing is his thing. If I really wanted him to believe, I’m sure I could find something of substantial evidence, but I figure it’s fine to let him live in blissful ignorance of all that is truly happening in this world.
We continue to hit more rooms of the house. We’re actually in the mansion that Kit tried to take me to at my suggestion. Voyager’s Mansion. Though, we asked the residents for permission to be and film here this time. And I made sure to bring my EpiPen.
