“Put me on speakerphone.”
It takes me two attempts, but I manage to punch my screen in the right place.
“Gaëlle, you need to go to the Rolands’ house.”
Gaëlle’s hand crawls up her chest, then settles on her neck, and she clutches it so hard I worry she’ll strangle herself. “I can’t, Rainier. I can’t.”
“You can. I’m on my way there now, and so are Adrien and Slate.”
“I c-can’t.” She’s shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“You can,” Papa says with such calm that it sloughs off a little of my own fear. “We’ll all be there with you.”
“What if he tries to t-touch you?” she croaks.
“He can’t touch us.”
My skin coats in goose bumps. “Can’t he?”
“The pieces can’t touch you,ma chérie,” Papa explains steadily.
The cookie feels like it’s swimming back up my throat. “But a little girl walked right through him.”
Papa makes a strangled noise. “Because she didn’t see him. Onlydiwallerscan see him.” Papa sighs. “MaCadence,youcan touch it, butitcan’t touch you. Not unless it’s your piece.”
“What about you? You can’t see it. What if you roll right into him?”
“Once I get out there, I won’t move to avoid any risk of contact.”
“What about the little girl? Will she be okay?”
Papa doesn’t answer.
I swallow back the wad of cookie and bile. Thegroac’hin the well was crazy, but at least she was contained. Nothing encloses this ghost. Unless the spice blend can truly keep him in place . . .
“And the Rolands’ house?” I watch the ghost study his ex-wife. “Why are we meeting there?”
There’s a beat of silence before Papa says, “Because that’s where Matthias is buried.”
The phone slides out of my fingers and falls onto the blackened doormat.
Papa’s voice rises from the floor. “Adrien thinks Gaëlle needs to lead the ghost back to its bones to defeat it.”
This isn’t just some projection of Gaëlle’s worst fear. This is . . . this is . . .
Her husband isn’t gone. He’sdead.
And Papa knew.
Gaëlleknew.
How?
How do they know he’s dead?
How do they know where he’s buried?
My questions must register on my face, because Gaëlle whispers, “It was an accident. Oh my God, I don’t want to do this.” Her voice breaks. “I don’t want to face him again.”
