Page 29 of The Imaginary Friend's Obsession

Still, as I staunch the bleeding, my eyes keep drifting back to the doorway, and I keep somehow expecting to see someone, or something, there, watching me.

* * *

My ringtone jolts me awake in the middle of the night. I fumble for my phone on the nightstand, squint at Ezra’s name, and hastily answer.

“What happened?” I ask. My heartbeat is already rising. A weekend phone call in the middle of the night can’t be good news.

“It’s Dorian,” Ezra says. “I was concerned about how little activity I’ve seen over the past couple of days, so I came in today to check on him, and…” His breath hitches. “I’m not seeing any sign of him. Nothing’s registering on the EMF, the temperature sensor—nothing.”

I’m already scrambling out of bed. “I’m on my way.”

“Daisy.” His voice is gentle in a way that threatens to tear me apart. “It might be too late already. I don’t know—”

I hang up before he can finish the sentence.No. I can’t let myself believe it’s over. Not when we finally seemed to be making progress. Not when I’m so close to figuring out the truth. Not when I haven’t even had a chance to say goodbye.

I throw a coat over my nightgown and race out to my car, oblivious to the chill in the air. The streets of Ash Valley are dark and empty at this time of night, so there’s nothing to slow me down as I race to the MRF. But once I reach the gate, I’m forced to stop. Of course, there’s still a guard on duty, and he peers at me with obvious suspicion. I clench the wheel, trying to calm myself down before I say or do something stupid. Power sizzles beneath my skin, searching for an escape. To let it out here and now would be an abysmal mistake.

“I-I forgot my ID, but I’m here to assist Ezra Bradford,” I tell the guard. “It’s an emergency.”

“He didn’t say anything about—”

“Call him,” I snap. The guard’s brow furrows, and I realize that the wheel is vibrating under my hands, the car radio flickering through different stations. I remember how important it is to contain my anger. I shut my eyes, breathe, and push the overflow of energy down, deep down. “Please,” I say, when I’m sure I can keep my voice steady.

The man turns away from me and grabs his radio. His words are too quiet for me to overhear. I watch through the window, well aware how easy it would be for Ezra to have me turned away. But the guard waves me through the gate.

I park and then race into the building, pulling my coat tighter around me as the winter night bites at my bare legs. Ezra’s in the lobby when I arrive, holding out his hands as if to placate me.

“Let me see him,” I demand.

“Daisy, I told you…”

“I know what you told me.” My voice trembles despite my best efforts to stay calm. Now that I’m here, seeing the sorrow on Ezra’s face, reality is threatening to crash down on me. “I’m not going to believe it until I see it for myself. Ineedto see. To try. To…to say goodbye, if nothing else.” I try to blink back my tears, but they overflow anyway, trekking down my face. “Please, Ezra.”

Ezra scrubs a hand across his face. “You can try to talk to him,” he says. “Maybe he’ll hear you, if it’s not too late…” The doubt in his voice is obvious, but I can tell that he wants this to work almost as badly as I do.

We both hurry down the hallway to the observation chamber. Once inside, I rush to the window and press both hands against the glass. The intercom is already active; Ezra must have been trying to speak to Dorian before I arrived.

“It’s me,” I say. “Can you hear me? Please, show me that you’re still there.”

But there’s no movement in the room, no noise. The radio sits silent. The cell stays empty. I shut my eyes and try to reach out, tofeelsome hint of his presence, but there’s nothing but an empty room.

“No,” I whisper.

Ezra stands behind me. A beep draws my attention, and I turn to see the EMF reader in his hands, sitting at a steady green.No activity.

We both stare at the meter, waiting, but there’s no change.

My hope is withering. Ezra is sensitive to spirits, and I am sensitive to Dorian. I trust both of us more than any device, but if neither of us can sense him anymore…

“But it was working,” I say, my voice thick with tears. “You said he was getting stronger.”

“Hewas,” Ezra says, his shoulders slumping. “Hearing his name, his memories, seeing you…that’s how ghosts get stronger. I’m certain it helped. But maybe it was a temporary burst of strength. Maybe he held on just a little longer for a chance to say goodbye to you.”

I press a hand to my mouth, choke back a sob. “But I didn’t get to say goodbye,” I say. “You didn’t let me see him. If you had just let me in…”

Ezra stares at the floor, emotions warring on his face. “I had to protect you, too,” he says.

Fury wells up inside, filling the empty ache in my chest. It is easier to have someone to blame, and Ezra is right in front of me.

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