Page 28 of An Inheritance of Monsters

Orat least my séances aren’t fake.

Both of which would only throw fuel on the fire that had been steadily igniting between us for the last year.

“I’m not falling apart.” I slid the pencil into the Black Book and snapped it shut.

“Mmhmm.” Sierra squeezed herself, still staring at me. “You’ve been weird since we got here, and you’re telling me it has absolutely nothing to do with Carson being here? You were completely depressed when he broke up with you in college.”

Anger rippled through me, and for once… I just wanted to punch Sierra right in her organically-chapsticked lips.

I’d dated Carson briefly in college, before the days of gelled, dyed-black hair and oversized trench coats.

He hadn’t been much to write home about. I’d known it was just a fling with someone who had similar interests.

But then Crispy and I had started what would grow to becomeSpirit Squad. Carson hadn’t wanted in at the time, though he’d been sour about it.

He’d broken up with me. And I hadn’t been depressed—I’d beenpissedbecause an entire thirty-page script I’d written on the local haunted churchyard, Storm Grove, had mysteriously vanished off my laptop and thumb drive the day before.

Two weeks later, Carson had presented a short film on the local haunted churchyard.

Imagine that.

“Carson being here doesn’t bother me. That’s old history.” God, Sierra was about the last person I wanted to talk to about this.

She raised an eyebrow. “If you say so. But there’s also Porter—”

I slid off the desk, standing up and looking… well, up at her. Sierra had five inches on me. “Do you really think I’m going to let some salty old has-been shake me up? His idea of an insult is to call me a Millennial, for fuck’s sake. I can’t help when I was born.”

“He dragged up some pretty intense shit on his last video.”

My breathing shallowed. The memory of Lincoln was like a bolt through the heart, and when people brought it up, all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball in the nearest closet. “Not enough to bother me. I’ve been living with it my whole life.”

At least she didn’t know about Eloise. Crispy knew, but Sierra… I’d liked her more in the beginning, but I’d still never trusted her enough to tell her aboutthatsordid history.

Sierra shrugged. “Still. You’ve been off, you look like you haven’t slept in days, and, like it or not, you’re one of the faces of this show. It doesn’t matter if we catch one of your ‘ghosts’ on camera as long as you and I draw the viewers in. And if them being here is going to break you down,youneed to figure it out.”

The anger was quickly turning into a blood-boiling inferno, even if there was a seed of truth to it.

I couldn’t let the people here get to me—but Sierra didn’t give a damn about finding the truth as long as she had sponsorships.

“Right. I’ll take it into consideration.” I tucked my notebook in my small backpack and gave a thumbs up to Crispy, who was still talking to Sofia while watching us. His eyebrows were scrunched with worry.

“Look, I’ve got some stuff that can help you sleep if you need it.” Sierra loosed her arms, reaching out to touch my shoulder, suddenly solicitous and concerned.

I wanted to shrug it off, and maybe shrug her down a flight of stairs.

“Sure.” Tiredness bit at me. “I’ll stop by later tonight.”

She was right about one thing: I was running on nothing but espresso and pure wonder. I needed to sleep at some point.

Crispy strolled over, still chattering to Sofia, and he aimed the screen at us. “Say goodbye toseñorita preciosa.”

“Bye, sweetie.” Sierra and I blew her kisses and got a banana and blueberry grin in return.

He hung up, slid his phone in his pocket, and sighed, staring at both of us. “So what did I miss?”

Crispy missed nothing, and he knew that I knew that he knewexactlywhat had happened while he was talking to his daughter.

“We were just discussing our next setting,” Sierra said smoothly. “The garden would be nice.”

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