Page 79 of Ghostly
Which was exactly how ghosts went crazy, wasn’t it?
Sometimes, she’d be talking to Perry, and Gabriel’s smooth, seductive voice would cross her mind, and it would feel so, so very awkward. One day, she’d been haunting Perry’s phone when it happened, and a pop-up for a website with women of dubious morals turned up.
That one was hard to explain.
When she’d come out of the deer statue after the event, she hadn’t expected a love confession, but a nice word would’ve sufficed. A small, but knowing smile, like the one Armando had given Jane after their night in the tent.
She certainly hadn’t expected Gabriel to say it was all in the perfume.
What could she say back tothat? She was only glad she’d made it to her bedroom before the embarrassing hiccup noises began, and while she’d sat there, not knowing whether to laugh or cry at her idiocy, thoughts swirled.
Even inEmerald Fever, Jane and Armando only had their implied happy ending. Jane returned to her life, and Armando had to run to escape the clutches of the cartel. At the very end, Jane saw someone through the window, ran down, and through her smile and a shot of Armando’s signature boots, it was implied he’d returned.
He probably hadn’t, the scoundrel. Or he had, only to tell her it wasonlythe perfume.
So in the weeks to come, Ida decided to put it all behind her. Gabriel seemed all too happy to dig into his work, his mind clearly still set on returning to the city once her resurrection was complete. Apparently, the perfume had left no lingering feelings.
If only she’d be as successful getting rid of hers. Unfortunately, her obsession tended to stick even better than all the random information she’d absorbed by haunting objects through the decades.
“So you’re going to use this music box as one of the objects for the ritual?” Perry’s voice came through muffled and robotic when she was in the phone. They were in her old bedroom again; lately, she preferred to spend time here instead of in the living room with Gabriel.
“Yes. My mother got it for me when I was little.”
“My mom got me one, too! My biological mom. It’s the one thing I have of hers.”
Perry didn’t talk of his birth parents often. His voice took on a sad note when he did, but it wasn’t the true, deep sadness; since he’d been so young when they died, Ida suspected he missed theideaof what he could’ve had more than he missed his parents.
“And what else?” he asked. “Besides me.”
“I also need to create an object imbued by emotion. Gabriel”—don’t think ofhis fingers sliding up your thigh,do notthink of it—“got me some lockets I can use for that.”
“Cool! Let’s do it now! Show me some ghostie mumbo-jumbo.”
“I’m not sure you’d see anything. Also, it’s not the best idea.” She explained her problem with anger, treating the subject with caution—Perry didn’t need to know exactly how she’d tortured his ancestors.
“But what about trying with lighter emotions? Aw, come on, ghostie. It’s gonna be cool.” His voice screeched as he leaned in closer. “You thinkyou could make, like, an object that gives you focus? Or inspiration? Confidence? ‘Cuz I’d love myself some.”
If she channeled her feelings into an object, would that help her get rid of them? Alleviate them? The book hadn’t mentioned this, but it made a pinch of sense. Like letting out anger by punching a ball.
Lucky humans.
“You know what, let’s give it a try.”
Perry fetched three kitschy silver lockets and laid them on the fireplace mantel. Ida jumped into one. No, not silver—only sprayed over. Bringing forward the feelings she held for Gabriel wasn’t hard. She only needed to think of his name, and she could swear the locket grew warm.
That’sright. Get it all out.
Images replayed in her mind, half-real, half-made up—Gabriel’s lips on her skin, the silk chemise sliding over her body, his voice near her ear—
Unwillingly, other images took over. Gabriel fixing the light bulb she’d broken, grinning as he thought he fulfilled a condition. The zeal when he told that ridiculous story about a tomato being legally recognized as a vegetable. How proudly he’d looked at her at the dinner with the neighbors, after she’d fixed their misunderstanding. His eyes, soft and understanding, as she told him about her past.
I lit a candle at your grave.
She assumed what he told her of the grave wasn’t entirely true—perhaps it didn’t look bad, like man-made things, taken by nature, could get a romantic look to them—but she was certain no one maintained it. Gabriel only said that for her benefit. He didn’t want her to feel sad, abandoned.
More images came: Gabriel bending down, as if about to kiss her; stealing a glance at her every now and then, as they watched the movies he let her pick; hugging her after her breakdown, when she needed solace themost… Many of these could be only her perception; her looking through the rose-tinted glasses, imagining feelings behind those glances that were never truly there.
But she imagined them anyway, and continued to remember and channel everything she felt about Gabriel. The locket vibrated and grew warmer and warmer, and then—
