Page 54 of Ghostly
The problem wasn’t that she couldn’t drink it. It was the intention. He’d never brought coffee to anyone, not in this context. It was… intimate. Meaningful.
Ida hadn’t noticed his strange behavior; she was deep into her efforts of flipping pages like a normal human being. Gabriel zoned in on the narrow strip of the peachy skin between her high collar and her hairline. A few strands of hair, the ones too short to hold up in her coiffure, caressed that skin, just like he wanted—
The coffee cups rattled, and Gabriel quickly retreated to the kitchen, where he put them down and leaned on the counter, lowering his head.
He wanted Ida. And not just in a way where, if that were possible, he’d want to slide his fingers across her skin, then trail the path with his lips; let down her hair and entangle his hand in its silky texture. He wanted to spend evenings with her on the couch, watching some silly movie; nights with her in bed, sleeping only occasionally; mornings with her sitting across the dining table, rays of sun bringing out the few freckles on her cheeks. He wanted to be with her, inside her, beside her—always.
He wanted more of her laugh. He wanted tomake herlaugh. He’d never realized how much he needed that—someone to properly laugh with him because of something silly he’d done, not because he told a lame, lawyer-approved joke at a dinner party.
And he wanted a friend. Not someone who thought him charming. Someone wholikedhim.
Without thinking, he was back on the way to the living room, ready to go for any of the options he’d just daydreamed about, but came to an almost- screeching halt before he reached the sofa.
Ida was still a ghost. Even if she tried to be more human, he knew what she really wanted, and really needed: to be set free. And in the slight chance she felt something akin to what he did, what would they do? Spend the rest of their lives—Gabriel’s life—living like this? With her forever trapped here, him keeping her existence quiet? He’d seen what happened, in her state, when she was upset, when she lost family. Eventually, she’d lose him.
Entrenched in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed he sat down until Ida waved a hand in front of his face.
“Page six!” she said with a child-like enthusiasm. “With progress like that, you can bring Tolstoy next time.”
Desperate, Gabriel tried to wade his way out of his muddled thoughts. It was only a moment of weakness. Loneliness. The other night, he thought he’d seen Wynona—that reminded him he missed the touch of a woman, a physical relationship. It had been two months. Yes, just a weird attack of lust. He didn’t have to overthink it, and he didn’t have to break his heart over this.
But his heart still felt strangely heavy when he said, “Maybe it’s a faulty contract.”
“What?”
“The Passing Through Contract. Maybe it’s broken and that’s why theforgivecondition won’t work.”
“You think we messed it up when we tore it out?”
“It is full of supernatural mumbo-jumbo. Who knows.” He tried an indifferent shrug. “Or maybe we overlooked something. I’ll check the book tomorrow when I go to the library.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Good. That’s settled. I promise, we’ll get you freed.”
“Yes. Of course.” Ida blinked rapidly and turned her attention to the book.
“And I forgot the coffee.” Gabriel laughed a nervous laugh and hid in the kitchen, where he pretended the thought of Ida disappearing forever wasn’t tearing his soul apart.
One man bun later
Hidden in a forgotten corner of the library, the slim purple volume appeared untouched since Gabriel returned it months ago. He leafed through the first half to get to the page where the contract used to be. No signs anything supernatural had happened to the book because he took out the page; no ink running from the words, charred pages, or whatever curse could’ve been unleashed. And while Gabriel was happy he hadn’t destroyed public property (above what he’d already done by ripping out a page) or brought some plague upon himself, he was also slightly disappointed. In the absence of all other proof, the conclusion remained: this was about him not being able to forgive, not about a broken contract.
The page before the ripped-out contract was talking about signs of ghosts; nothing new here, he already knew them all. The page after made a sudden jump to “objects inhabited by ghosts, and the emotional states theycan imbue”. Who was this damn book meant for—someone who tried to get rid of a ghost, or a ghost itself?
“Oh, Brenda, you must’ve had some weird experiences.” He skimmed to the bottom of the page, where he stopped at the page number. Sixty-eight. The page before that was sixty-one. The contract he’d ripped out only accounted for two numbers.
Which meant two more pages were missing.
Gabriel bent over the book, sliding his finger between pages to flatten them out. There—a thin remainder of the paper of the missing two pages, which someone must’ve removed with surgical precision.
What if there was more to the contract?
If those two pages were important, they were removed before Gabriel got his hands on the book. He’d notice if there was anything important after the contract when he first checked it out. He wouldn’t have missed it.
Still, that didn’t help—the pages were lost.
Or were they?
