Page 32 of Ghost
I still hadn’t taken my medication.
“What are you worried about?” Miles chirped, leading me to the patio. “Besides, I’ve brought food. We’ll have our own slumber party before the others get here. I’m sure that you have plenty of more games planned. Don’t you want to hang out with me?”
The topic was a tempting distraction, and Miles was correct. But I doubted Miles wanted to play Bobbing for Cherries with me.
Besides, I was hesitant to suggest it. Considering the last time.
“That’s not it.” I ducked under his arm and unlocked the door. “I feel as though we’re wasting time. There has to be something we can do to cause the spirits to come to us. I hate waiting. I feel anxious about this whole situation. I don’t want anyone hurt because of me.”
Miles followed me into the kitchen and placed some take-out bags on the counter. He caught my inquisitive glance and grinned. “I bring you the food of my people.”
“I thought Titus said that your Frenchness didn’t count, since you didn’t grow up there your whole life.” At least, I was almost certain he said something to that effect.
“Don’t listen to him, my mother is French.” Miles flushed. However, he shook off his annoyance and began to lay the contents out along the counter. “You’ll love this. We have coq au vin, cassoulet, tarte tatin…”
He continued naming things as he touched them, but the words all jumbled together. Instead, my mind focused on the tasty looking morsels. Of course, I had no idea what any of them were, but they smelled delicious.
“As long as there’s no alcohol in them,” I reminded him. After all, I had heard about French people and their cooking.
Miles braced himself on the counter, leaning toward me. He exaggeratedly rolled his eyes. “What is this? Do you honestly believe that I’d seek to corrupt your innocence? It’s so precious.”
“I don’t know…” I told him. I didn’t care either—so long as the food was safe. “We really haven’t been friends that long, and you were upset when I reminded you that you were too young to drink. For all I know, you’d be setting me up to get arrested with you. You might need a cellmate.”
I glanced at Miles. His hand was pressed against his chest, and he was watching me in disbelief.
“What?” I raised my eyebrow at him.
“That’s cute,” he smirked, dropping his hand back onto the counter and leaning toward me. “But if I were to corrupt your innocence, I would think of a better way to do it. More fun too.”
Fun? Only infidels would think breaking the law was fun. Then again, Miles was a witch. Considering that, he probably had a certain level of godlessness to him.
And on that topic. “How does that work anyway?” I asked, turning away from him to collect the serving spoons.
He hummed in response—his breath suspiciously close to my ear. I fought back a shiver in response. Miles wasn’t as flirtatious as Damen. But he had a way of breaking through my defenses. I never thought it was possible to feel safe, but Miles—especially—was comfortable to be around.
“You know what I mean,” I continued, ignoring my fluttering heart. Miles was probably the easiest to talk to about this anyway. “How can you be both a witch and a monk?”
Suddenly, Miles was gone. And a large crash rang throughout the kitchen.
My fluttering heart jerked to a stop as I turned to see what had happened, expecting the worst. Somehow, the ghost was attacking us. I was going to see his mutilated body splattered against the wall.
Only I didn’t.
Instead, Miles had—apparently—crashed into the refrigerator all on his own. I wasn’t sure how he managed it, but the door was broken and the handle torn.
This job was going to cost me a fortune.
But Miles didn’t seem to even notice his destruction. He stared at me, wide-eyed and horrified. “What?”
I frowned at him, unhappy with my track record as of late. Was every question out of my mouth that offensive? This might be a sensitive topic, but I did have a right to know the plan.
“I’m talking about your celibacy, Miles.” In this situation, bluntness was probably the best approach. “Yes, you are a group of paranormal fighting monks. But I was wondering the logistics. How does this work while you are a worshiper of Satan, and with Damen being demon-possessed?”
Miles was worrying me now. He hadn’t even twitched, and his mouth was open in shock.
I was about to ask him if he was alright, when he jumped to his feet and yanked out his phone with shaking hands. He began to pace as he waited for his intended recipient to answer.
It didn’t take long.
