Page 16 of Ghostly
“Ida—”
“Yes, I know. I was stupid to believe it in the first place, I gave you false hope, now excuse me as I go spend the rest of my countless days in the music box so I don’t disturb you.”
“I meant to say, there’s more.”
She stopped halfway to the hallway.
“There’s fine print.” As Gabriel looked up, his eyes glittered like a child’s in a candy store.
Wow, he must really like fine print.
“The ghostly contract has fine print?”
“Everythinghas fine print.” He pointed to a block of tiny text at the bottom; she had to strain her eyes to read it.
The ghostly individual (in continuation: GI) may transfer the contract toanother, ghostly or non-ghostly individual (in continuation: TI), by possessingthe TI after bonding to the contract but before any of the conditions arefulfilled. Once the TI fulfills any of the conditions, the contract can nolonger be transferred back to the GI. The TI will fulfill the conditions onbehalf of the GI. No perks of this contract apply to the TI.
“It’s so wordy,” she said.
“That’s fine print for you.” Gabriel put the book on the table. “I’ll leave it open in case you decide to do your… thing.” He waved his hands in an approximate circular motion and went to the kitchen.
Ida slowly glided to the book. She never thought she could, in her ghostly existence, feel so much in a day. Annoyance, expectation, happiness, despair. But the range of emotions only made it worse, made her realizehow she’d never again shed a tear when sad or hug someone when happy. How she’d never again feel her heart race.
Maybe the Great Beyond dulled emotions, too. That would be nice.
Muffled sounds of puffing and gurgling came from the kitchen; Gabriel was making coffee again. The man was obsessed with it. Ida couldn’t quite put her finger on him, and not only literally. Curt for most of the time, but occasionally, a kind word would escape him. Almost as if he could change his behavior at will, to be what the other person—or his client—needed the most. And she was supposed to be the one with supernatural abilities!
However, he’d helped her so far, and once he got a job, he seemed determined to finish it. She needed someone to help her leave—who’d be better than the man whowantedher gone?
“Gabriel?” She spoke low and carefully at first, but then repeated the call with more conviction.
“Yes?” His head peeked out of the doorway.
Ida wrung her hands and nodded to herself. What’s the worst that could happen—he’d reject her and she’d hide away in her music box, as she intended, anyway? “Would you fulfill the contract on my behalf?”
Chapter 5
“You want me to be the Transfer Individual.” Gabriel leaned on the doorway. “You’re not serious. This contract is as shady as it gets.”
“You think it’s not valid?”
His sanity was telling him it was a bunch of bullshit, but then, a week ago he’d have said the same for ghosts. At least he could fall back to one thing: good old rules.
“For starters, it’s badly written. It’s an offense to call it a contract. It’s missing a bunch of clauses, no talk of termination, dispute resolution, the terms are too loose and even the parties aren’t clearly defined! Who’s providing the services here? Some…” He picked up the book and shuffled to the front page to find the author’s name. “Brenda B. Bustin. Are you kidding me. I suppose she also has a pseudonym to write—” He looked up when Ida giggled.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m very emotionally unstable today.”
“Glad to know I’m amusing,” he bit off. “All I’m saying is, this is not a contract to be trusted.”
“Yes, but if it’s a fake contract, we’ve nothing to fear, correct? It can’t hurt me. Or you.” Ida glided around the room. “However, if it is real, I can’t let it go because it’s missing a clause or two. And I have no one else to help me but you.”
No one else to help.
It’s been a while since he’d heard that from any of his clients. Recently, he’d been dealing with fish too big to use such personalization, but back when he still had to prove himself, it had been glorious and empowering to hear.
In a way, Ida was just one of his clients. A client he also wanted to be rid of, and this was the way out—so why was he resisting?
“Say I were to do it,” he said begrudgingly, “how would it work? Do I sign— hell, it doesn’t even have a place to sign, which is exactly my point—”
