Page 87 of Séance

“Ms. Killaghan?” A man jumps out, walks around the vehicle, and opens the door for her. Before I can gather my wits, she slips inside, and the door closes.

A muscle ticks in my jaw.

Just what the fuck is happening?

I storm over toward her and wrench on the door.

Only to find it locked.

I slam my hand against the window, a silent demand that she look at me, but she doesn’t even flinch. Before I can do anything else, the car pulls away from the curb, and I’m left standing on the sidewalk, looking after her as it disappears from view.

A single thought repeats in my head.

What the absolute fuck just happened?

Chapter Twenty-eight

RUE

Iused my one phone call to contact a car service.

While the police read me my rights, they don’t arrest me—small mercies. The detectives talked, then yelled, doing their best to browbeat me into a confession.

They wanted answers.

Hell, I fucking wanted answers about my abilities, but no one could ever give them to me. I’ve researched ghosts extensively on the internet, but most of the articles were crap. The scarce nuggets of valid information I found were few and far between.

It was only by trial and error that I managed to successfully put together the puzzle pieces of my fucked-up abilities—a puzzle that has no borders and over half of the pieces missing.

I’ve never run across anything likeLa Llorona. The largest body of water I’ve ever been near was my bathtub. Can a ghost live in a bathtub? I shudder at the thought.

I’m not sure if dragging her out of the water would have weakened the spirit enough to banish her, but I was desperate and had to try something.

Honestly, I’m not even surehowI banished her.

The ancestor I encountered mentioned something about focus and intent, but I didn’t understand what she meant. While miraculously banishing the spirit should be considered a blessing, I find it troublesome. What happens the next time my powers activate without my permission? Will I accidentally raise the dead? What if I rip a soul from a living human if I sneeze wrong?

Without control, I’m a menace, just like my father predicted.

Used to my father’s tantrums, it’s easy to block the police as they rant. At least with the cops, they don’t lay a hand on me.

Then, to my shock, an older gentleman enters the room, claiming to be my lawyer. He takes one look at me and orders the officers out of the room. Even with the door shut, I can hear him berating them.

By the time the lawyer returns, the police finally remove my cuffs and released me. It takes longer than it should to force my aching body into motion. When we pause by a locked door, waiting to be released, I don’t look at him as I speak. “Thank you.”

The lawyer turns toward me and scans my face, then his expression softens. He reaches into his pocket, retrieves his card, and offers it to me. “If you ever need anything, call me anytime.”

I blink at the card—Mr. Hollis, Esq.—then look at him for the first time, ready to politely decline, but when I stare into his gray eyes, the compassion I see in their depths has me swallowing hard. They shimmer with gold for a moment, almost like a glow, and my breath hiccups in my chest.

A pure soul, or that’s what I call them.

Very few people carry that little shimmer of gold, and I barely resist the urge to lean into his chest and cry at the way my newlife has unraveled around me. I take his card, then slip it into my pocket.

As the door unlocks, the lawyer sighs then leads the way. I register Hicks waiting for me, but my eyes are locked on the door. I can almost taste the fresh air. All I want to do is put distance between me and everything that’s happened today.

I need time to shore up my defenses and decide what the hell I’m going to do next.

I’m not strong enough to live next door to the guys and see them carry on with their lives without me. After today’s fiasco, their friendship will turn to hatred.

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