Page 82 of The Cursed Fae

Laz squeezed my hands encouragingly. My voice grew stronger as I repeated the words. The temperature dropped steadily. He clasped my fingers tighter. The physical connection became hard to hold. One or both of us was vibrating. Or maybe it was the ground.

“You did all this for me? I’m flattered.”

I recognized that arrogant tone. My eyes popped open. The guy in swimming trunks was standing outside the protection ring, hands behind his back.

“I didn’t do this for you,” I snapped, annoyed my spell had produced the one ghost who actually wanted to see me.

Laz’s eyebrows raised as his brow furrowed. “Is he here?”

“Not exactly,” I replied, watching the spirit study Laz with mild interest.

“Who’s your friend?” Swimming Trunks asked.

“You first. What’s your name?” I countered.

“Winter. Careful. Not all ghosts are friendly,” Laz warned.

“It’s okay. I’ve met him before.”

“Garrison,” the ghost said. “My name is Garrison. Who is he?”

I looked at Laz and lowered my voice. “Should I tell him your name?”

The spirit laughed loudly. “I can hear you, you know. I’m dead, not deaf.”

I rolled my eyes. “He says his name is Garrison,” I told Laz.

He nodded, his gaze flitting in Garrison’s general direction. “Lazlo Keene. Son of Jonathon and Miranda Keene.”

“Wow, he’s a serious one. All formal and stiff. Where’d you find him?” Garrison cocked a thumb at Laz.

“You got your answer. My turn for a question,” I replied evenly. “Where’s Ray? You said you’d try to contact him.”

The spirit started walking around the perimeter of the protection ring, nudging loose salt pieces into place with the toe of his flip-flop. “I tried. He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Did he say that?”

Laz watched me silently, though he obviously wanted to hear both sides of the conversation.

Garrison held up his hand and wiggled it back and forth in the air. “Not in some many words. But he is hiding in his favorite spot.”

“Which is where?” I pressed. If I knew his location, I might have an easier time drawing him out. I hadn’t done nearly enough background reading to understand the intricacies of ghost summoning.

“What do I get if I help you?” Garrison countered.

“Nothing,” I snapped. “You were supposed to find him for me. I told you I’d come back, and I did my part. Now do yours,” I demanded.

He laughed. “Feisty as ever.”

“You barely know me. Tell me where Ray is,” I practically growled.

“Easy, Winter,” Laz warned. “You don’t want to piss off ghosts.”

I ignored him, keeping my focus on Garrison.

“Fine,” he said at last. “Your boy is in the underwater caves. He likes it down there.”

“Underwater caves?” I repeated as Garrison disappeared.

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