Page 25 of Ghoul Me, Maybe
I’m lying on the wooden floor of Sienna’s cramped living room. There’s a candle burning somewhere—it smells like citrus and iron. My ribs ache. My skin buzzes like I’ve been struck by lightning and haven’t decided yet whether to burn or glow.
Sienna’s perched in the armchair like a crow watching a fresh corpse. Her legs are tucked under her, her eyes unreadable. She’s got that guarded expression again—the one that says she’s about to hand me my own head in a basket but hasn’t quite picked the basket yet.
“You done having your magical seizure?” she asks, voice dry.
“I wasn’t aware I’d started.”
“You went full ghost-supernova, collapsed, and scared the hell out of me. So yeah. Bit of a seizure.”
I push myself up slowly. My hand leaves an impression on the floor for a second too long. “I didn’t ask to be… whatever that was.”
She tosses a cold pack at me. It phases through my chest and lands on the floor.
“Helpful,” I mutter.
“I panicked,” she shrugs. “I’m not exactly trained in ghost CPR.”
I get to my feet, slower than I’d like. My joints don’t feel like joints—they feel like borrowed ideas.
We stand in silence, the kind thick enough to chew.
“I saw them,” I say finally. “Kerren. Dace. The betrayal.”
She doesn’t flinch.
“They took the relic. They weren’t corrupted. Not fully. Theychoseit.”
“Greed?” she asks.
“No,” I say. “Desperation. Fear. Maybe something worse. The relic makes youwantit. And then it convinces you you’ll die without it.”
She leans back, eyes narrowed. “And how long before it decides to finish the job with you?”
I meet her gaze. “You think I don’t wonder that every time I blink?”
She exhales through her nose. “Well. That’s comforting.”
I step forward, careful not to get too close. The bond between us snaps like a fishing line on a hook when I do. The air warps with it—charged, electric, too much.
“We can’t keep doing this,” she says. “You showing up half-dead, me pretending I don’t care?—”
“You care.”
“Don’t push me, Casper.”
“Then stop running from it.”
She stares at me for a long second. “I’m not scared of the magic.”
“Then what?”
She bites her lip. “I’m scared ofus.”
That shuts me up.
Because it’s not just her. I feel it too. The way my soul drags toward her like the tide, helpless and hungry. The way I feel more real around her. The way I dream in her voice.
We can’t afford this.
