Page 29 of Graveyard Dog

“That’s good to know.”

“Celie calls it cohabitation,” she continued. “She lives in a tiny part of me, like the corner of my bedroom.”

The thought still disturbed him. He’d seen possession firsthand. He was not a fan.

“It’s weird because I have all her memories mixed in with mine. Sometimes, I get them confused.”

Adopting a thick British accent, she added, “And she hates it when I’s talks like this. It’s cocky, you see—”

“Cockney,” Izzy corrected.

“—and it drives Celie crazy, it does. Not that I’s cares much. I learned it watching the oldMary Poppins, I did.” She threw herhead back, laughing so hard she had to pull her knees up and hold her belly.

Michael and Izzy laughed with her, the sound absolutely precious, especially after everything that had happened today.

“She’s so mad,” Emma said, her bland American accent back in place.

Michael wiped his eyes and asked, “So, how does one get a walk-in?”

She sobered and flashed him a knowing grin. “Well, one first has to die.”

He stilled for the hundredth time that day, horrified yet again by something one of these two had said. He took a moment to let her words soak in, then asked, “How did you die?”

“Eloy Johnson pushed me off the monkey bars. Let’s just say I did not stick the landing. An ambulance came and everything. The driver said I didn’t have a pulse for two minutes, but then Celie walked in, and I came back to life.”

“She brought you back to life?” Michael asked.

“No, silly. That was the ambulance driver. Celie just encouraged me not to go into the light. But that’s not even the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Seriously?” he asked, a little worried about where this was going.

So was Izzy, if her expression was any indication.

Emma grinned at her and said to Michael, “Mom accidentally tased me once.”

“Emma,” she scolded softly.

She put a tiny hand to her mouth, leaned closer, and whispered to him, “She’d been drinking wine.”

Izzy glared at her. “Emmaline Isadora Walsh, you can’t possibly remember that. You were two.”

“You tased a two-year-old?” Michael asked, appalled.

“Not on purpose.”

“Wait,” he said as a thought occurred to him. “Can you use your ability on her?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t I wish.”

“Mommy!”

“Bedtime would be so much easier.”

“You don’t mean that. You would never.”

“Maybe notnever.”

Emma crossed her arms and jutted her bottom lip.

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