Someone once loved me enough to buy me a happy bear.
Cadence touches my forearm. I jerk because I forgot I wasn’t alone. She snatches her hand back, her cheeks coloring. Or at least, they look like they’re darkening. Hard to tell in the obscurity.
I shake off my daze and walk over to the buckets and shovel.
“Let me help.” Cadence latches onto the icy bucket handles and the splintered wooden shaft of the shovel.
I allow her to pry them out of my fingers, sensing she’s trying to make up for the dorm-room-foster-care comment. This time, when our hands brush, a grimace doesn’t mar her face. I wrap my arms around the bag of charcoal and duck-step out the door but I don’t bother locking it because I plan on exploring after we’re done with the ghost shit. I’m about to ask Cadence if she wants to tag along on my stroll down memory lane when I think I spot Matthias, but it’s just a piece of fog drifting off from the ever-present wall of mist choking this damn town.
As we carry the tools back to where Adrien’s readying the area for a fire, I ask, “What exactlyisthe plan?”
“According to Papa, a corpse’s bones can suck in a wandering spirit. As long as it’s the spirit’s bones.”
Adrien takes the bag of coal from me, rips it open, and pours the black chunks onto the cleared, frozen ground.
“ . . . bind him to his bones,” De Morel is telling Gaëlle.
“The rope went right through him, Rainier.”
De Morel frowns.
“Maybe copper wire would work,” Adrien suggests. “There might be some in the house’s electrical wiring. I could go check.”
Cadence sets down the bucket. “Wire will kick him away. It won’t bind him.”
Adrien’s got the fire started now. It burns orange, spewing curls of lavender smoke into the bleached air. “Then how is she supposed to bind him?”
“Maybe I don’t need rope or wire. Maybe the bones will magnetize his spirit.” Gaëlle sounds more hopeful than convinced.
I don’t pitch in my two-cents because I know zilch about ghosts. Bastian might have some ideas—Goosebumpswas his all-time favorite book series. If I remember correctly, some of the books had a spectral character or two. I got him the entire collection for his twelfth birthday, not new but not too yellowed and dog-eared either. I itch to call him up and ask him for advice but obviously can’t or he’ll be on the first train over, and I want to keep him as far away from this evil town as possible. Besides, I doubt the writer ever dealt with real ghosts, unless he visited Brume in the medieval ages. Or seventeen years ago. Shit. Will magic bring back more ghosts?They’re eerie, and this is coming from someone who has cohabitated with some creepy-ass people.
Three hours go by, and Matthias is still a no-show. We’ve all morphed into popsicles, and the sky’s turned a deep gray. But on the upside, the dirt’s finally soft enough to dig into. Under the beam of the snowmobile’s headlights, Adrien and I take turns, and sure as shit, I’m the one with the shovel when we reach the body. I don’t even have to say anything. I just lift my eyes to the rest of the group when the edge of the metal hits that first bit of bone.
They all watch as I scrape away the dirt with a spade. Whatever kind of cloth Gaëlle buried Matthias in is decayed to a greenish black in some places and completely disintegrated in others. The body’s mostly bone, except where the cloth sticks to it. Soil cradles the skull, and I observe that, like the ghost, most of its teeth have been knocked out.
Note to self: never mess with a woman making pie.
“I know you don’t think the rope will hold him, but I’d get it ready anyway, Gaëlle. Lay it out underneath the bones,” Rainier advises.
“Oh. No.” She sways, going pastier than the ghost she’s supposed to fight. “Oh, I don’t think I can—”
She turns and vomits into the snow. The air’s thankfully so cold it masks the stench.
“Cadence, can you give me the rope?” After she hands it over, nose crinkled, I lift the rotten cloth, the bones rattling inside, and lay the rope underneath. All Gaëlle needs to do now is tie it into a pretty bow. “All done.” I dust my hands to rid them of frozen dirt and dead person.
Cadence rubs Gaëlle’s back, whispering soothing words into her ear, while I dump a shovelful of fresh snow over Gaëlle’s half-digested lunch.
The sky darkens some more, and the temperature plummets. I’m betting the North Pole feels tropical in comparison to Brume.
Movement beside Rainier’s snowmobile catches my eye, and my heart kicks up a beat. I tighten my grip on the shovel as my blood burns and Matthias takes form.
“Don’t move, Rainier. He’s right next to you,” I say, keeping my voice low. Hell, I don’t think screaming would make Matthias flit away, but I’m still not taking the risk. I want to get this over with.
The ghost’s face is inches away from Rainier, his glassy eyes boring into Cadence’s daddy. Matthias clearly wasn’t a fan of De Morel. Never thought I’d have anything in common with a mad professor. Then again, I never thought I’d be stuck in a town fighting off monsters because of a ring.
“Matthias,” Gaëlle croaks.
The ghost turns his face toward the woman who slayed him.
