Page 42 of Ghost
“Miles!” Julian’s voice held a hint of warning, but I didn’t care about him. He wasn’t the one currently in danger of melting into the floor like a wax candle.
“Miles! Are you alright?” In a flash, I was beside him. Ready to offer my assistance. Professor Hamway had aloe in the gardens. Perhaps if I used enough, I could…
Miles’ shoulders shook under my hands, and my body quivered at my helplessness. I was at a loss at what to do, never having been in such a situation before in my life.
I was so upset that it took a moment to figure out why Miles was shaking. And even longer to interpret the meaning behind Julian’s disapproving glare.
“Youjerk!” Before I could second-guess myself, I smacked Miles on the back of the head. “That was not nice!”
Miles fell forward into the coffee table, but I chose to let it be. Instead, I returned to my seat beside Julian. Miles was a mean faker.
Julian grinned at me. “So you’ve gotten us all now, haven’t you?”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I’d dwell on it later. Instead, I redirected my attention back to Miles. He was staggering, trying to regain his footing. And his nose appeared to be bleeding as well.
Whatever. It was probably fake blood anyway.
“I can’t believe that you’d waste priest-blessed water in such a way,” I lectured, ignoring the guilty pang in my chest as Miles eyed me warily.
“That hurt,” he complained, his voice muffled behind his handkerchief. “Do you have super strength?”
I could show no pity. He’d never learn otherwise.
“God is going to send you to hell for wasting his water,” I informed him. “Besides, now you’re out of holy water. What happens if you need it?”
“There’s more,” Miles pointed to his bag. “Holy water can be found anywhere.”
I gasped, but in horror. “Miles!”
“Stop playing around!” Mr. Weaver said angrily, reappearing in front of my face. Apparently being dead for half a day hadn’t taught him anything about patience.
“Oh.” I had plastered myself into Julian’s side at the intrusion. “Hello, Mr. Weaver.”
“It’s only him?” Julian lowered his arm from his darkened face. “What in the world is he doing here?”
“I need to find my brother.” Mr. Weaver wasted no time in cutting to the chase.
“He wants to know where Dr. Stephens is,” I translated for the others.
That didn’t bode well.
“Why are you looking for him?” Julian narrowed his eyes in Mr. Weaver’s direction.
Miles had found a new plastic bottle, and held it at the ready. And was clutching a pillow to his chest with his other arm. But it was the look on his face that caused me to pause.
He appeared to be sweating, and his eyes darted around the room nervously. If I hadn’t known better, it almost seemed like he was afraid.
But that couldn’t be. He was the one who offered to be here. Besides, as a paranormal investigator, how could he be afraid of a ghost? That would be insane.
“It’s none of your business,” Mr. Weaver responded, even though there was no way Julian could hear him.
At the same moment, Miles spoke, “Dr. Stephens had an urgent family matter that required his attention.”
“This is an urgent family matter—I’m dead! Has he even been contacted?” Mr. Weaver grumbled in response. “I have news to relay to him. Tell them, you stupid girl.”
“No,” I responded. “You keep asking me to do things for you, but you’re really mean. Why should I help? You’ve never even said please.”
Julian frowned, but it was Miles who perked over my words. “He’s been mean? This is perfect. Julian, call Damen. He’d totally exorcise him now.”
