Page 39 of Hot Ghoul Summer

“You tensed up.”

“You want my soul?”

“Yes, with you in charge of it, in your living body,” Toby chuckles. “I want... Well, I want someone who will love me the way I love them. Whole heart and soul.” He lets go of me when I squirm away. “Is that wrong?”

“It’s too fast to tell a girl that.”

His eyes squint in confusion for a minute. “But I want you to know. Then you won’t worry that I’ll leave you or harm you. Shouldn’t your partner make you feel safe?”

“Yes. But a lot of guys say that too soon, and it shows they’re controlling psychopaths.” I give him a crooked grin, “Which you could pull off really well, Mr. McFlaming Skullface.”

“I will pay you a million dollars never to call me that again.”

“What? For real? Are you rich?”

Oh, my God, Molly. If this fiasco hasn’t taught you not to be greedy, I don’t know what will. “Sorry, shutting up.”

Toby laughs. “I don’t know about rich, but I’m very comfortable. I’ve been drawing my salary for several centuries longer than your average boyfriend. If money mattered to you, well, you wouldn’t have to worry as long as you were with me.”

I curse myself for being such a gold digger.

I blame student loans.

No, no. Be strong in your principles. “That’s good to know. But we’re still kind of on opposite sides, Toby. I bring life. You bring death. I try to hold you off from claiming people.”

“And when you succeed, that’s because it’s not their time to leave this world. But sometimes it is, and death is a very welcome guest.” Toby looks out the kitchen window where darkness is falling. “I have to go see an old friend of mine, and I want you to meet her. I want you to see me work.”

“What? No! No, I don’t want to see you kill someone.”

“I’m not going to kill someone. I’m going to take someone’s soul to its next stop. Come with me. Please? Trust me?”

My mouth opens in a protest, and Toby tuts. “Remember? If I can prove to you that sometimes death is not just necessary, but even a comfort, you said you’d go on a date with me.” He reaches out for my hand.

I slide mine into his. “Okay, but—”

That’s all I get out before the world swirls into a white mist and I’m standing in the middle of someone else’s house.

THE HOUSE IS FULL OF pictures, dust, and knickknacks.

A shriveled little old lady is huddled under a shawl in her recliner. The television tray next to her is full of remotes, pill bottles, and the remains of a microwave meal.

“Toby!” I hiss. “You can’t hurt this poor little old—”

But he’s not listening to me. I don’t even know if he can see or hear me. He’s looking his most adorable, suddenly clad in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt as he bends down to talk to the occupant of the house.

“Gladys! It’s me! Toby. Do you remember me?”

The little old lady blinks slowly through thick glasses, her eyes cloudy with age. “That sweet boy who came to see me in the hospital?”

“Several times, young lady!” He takes her wrinkled hands, which are covered in purple marks and liver spots, the thin skin offering very little protection from life’s daily bumps and bruises.

Gladys giggles weakly. “Young lady. Silly.”

“You’ve been feeling a bit peaky, haven’t you, love?” He strokes her thin white curls with a look of concern on his face.

“No. No, can’t complain.” Gladys smiles, and yet she presses a hand over her chest.

My nurse’s eye looks at her. Her legs are swollen. Her breathing is wet. Her heart is failing.

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