Page 16 of Ghoul Me, Maybe
“Rule three—when this is done, we’re done. You go your ghostly way, I go mine.”
That part shouldn’t sting.
But it does.
Still, I nod. “Fair.”
We both step back, like distance will make it feel less binding.
“So,” she says, crossing her arms. “Where do we start?”
I gesture to the map tucked under her jacket. “That thing your father left you—it doesn’t just show where he was looking. It shows what he wasavoiding.”
Her brow furrows. “The blank spots?”
“The dangerous ones.”
She mutters a curse and pulls it out.
“I swear, if this gets me murdered, I’m hauntingyou.”
I grin. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
She shoots me a look. Then she turns back toward town, the map rolled tight in her hand and her shoulders squared like she’s preparing for war.
I watch her walk away until the fog swallows her again.
An uneasy alliance.
But it’s more than I’ve had in a very, very long time.
CHAPTER 7
SIENNA
Idream in salt and candlelight.
Not the flickering electric kind, but real flame—fat wax drips, low shadows, the kind that licks the walls like it’s alive. The air is heavy with pitch and brine, and the boards beneath my feet creak with a rhythm I recognize in my bones but couldn’t name in waking life.
I’m standing in a ship cabin. Not mine. Not real.
Buthis.
The walls are close. There’s a map pinned to the desk, corners curling from damp and age. A compass spins uselessly next to it, and on the wall, a coat—long, worn, with salt-slick edges. It smells like old storms.
The door flies open.
Elias stumbles in, breath ragged, coat torn. His eyes dart around like he’s expecting a knife to the ribs. And judging by the way his hand drops to his belt—no sword, just a rusted dagger—I think he is.
“Thorn,” someone hisses behind him. “You’ve got to move—now!”
He spins, wild and too late. The voice comes from a man with a sea-dog’s face and hands that shake more from guilt than fear.
“What did you do?” Elias growls.
“I didn’t—he said—he promised?—”
Then the ship shudders.
