Page 75 of Revenant

Mabel grimaces, a shudder passing through her, and I swear she turns a little transparent at the thought. She shakes off whatever is bothering her and nods, her expression filling with determination.Very well.

“Something wrong?” I ask, peering down at her body, like I can figure out the issue.

It’s just cold, like it’s trying to suck the life out of me.Mabel shrugs, avoiding my gaze as she crawls across the bed and gingerly settles back into her skin. She sinks into her flesh slowly, as though she’s being entombed in a too tight space. She shifts and twitches until her form finally disappears.

It’s a little unnerving to see her vanish inside her own body. She practically vibrates with revulsion, sheer determination the only thing keeping her still.

If she can do her part, then so can I.

I carefully place my hand on her chest and grimace when it feels like my palm is pressing against chilled slime. Her body is indeed trying to drag her spirit back to where it belongs. Our human forms are not equipped to survive without a soul. It’s unnatural.

The chill from the other side fills me once again, but more cautiously this time, more used to reaping spirits than repairing them. I flood her body with a steady stream from the afterlife, watching it fill her like a balloon, slowly pressing her soul against the underside of her skin. The only thing that prevents her from being ejected is my hand on her chest.

The space feels a little too tight, like her skin might split under the strain, her spirit stretching thin. I hear a low boom from inside her chest that sounds a lot like rolling thunder, and my eyes widen in horror when her soul disintegrates.

I yank my hand back, curling my fingers into a fist, as if to deny that I just killed her. Before I can confess, Mabel lets out a painful gasp, and her spine arches off the bed. A second later, she drops back to the mattress with a thud, then her eyes flutter open.

“Mabel?” I ask hesitantly, uncertain if I succeeded in helping her or if I just lobotomized her.

“Why do my muscles feel like cement?” A tortured groan escapes Mabel, and she slowly turns her head toward me. “Being a ghost was a lot easier. Ugh…I feel like a stowaway. Give me a second to remember how to do…stuff.” She waves a hand—more like flops it around—and nearly smacks me in the face.

She glances toward the other side of the bed, and sadness tinges her expression. “Torris?”

The man in question touches her hand lightly. As if she can still sense him, her hand curls around nothing. Heart breaking, Ismile down at her. “He’s still here. He’s holding your hand. He’s not going anywhere.”

With a shuddering breath, Mabel pushes herself upright…and nearly topples off the side of the bed. Since she doesn’t weigh more than a feather, I catch her easily. I wrap my arm around her waist as she tries to remember how to walk again. Once she is able to stand without help, I smile down at her proudly. “What do you say we find your sister and bust out of this popsicle stand?”

Mabel snorts at my idiocy and rolls her eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“What gave that away? Was it the part where I talk to ghosts?” A small smile blooms across my face, and I raise an eyebrow down at her. “Because if that’s your criteria, I hate to say it, butbeinga ghost beats my crazy, hands down.”

“Touché,” she says with a rueful smile. “Let’s collect your men. I’m sure they’re probably ready to burn this place down to find you.”

She’s not wrong, I think with a wry smile, and glance at her from the corner of my eye. “Just how much have you been watching us?”

“What else am I supposed to do for entertainment?” Mabel shrugs, unabashed at being caught spying. “In a place that holds no happiness, it was nice to see love is not dead.”

“Love?” I parrot like an idiot, so startled that I almost trip over my own feet.

“The way they immediately look for you when they enter a room. The way they linger near you, like they can’t bear to be away from you for a second.” Mabel takes a step toward the door, nearly dragging me with her this time. “The way they worship you with their eyes, always protecting you against any threats, or doing something silly or sweet just to make you smile… I want that someday.”

Warmth fills my chest at her description of my men. It’s one thing to confess your love out loud and another thing to show it so publicly. Even surrounded by the horrors of this place, they never once floundered in their devotion or cast blame.

Love like that is rare, once in a lifetime, and it happened to me with each of the guys.

Despite my nightmare of an upbringing, I realize that I am lucky.

Most people don’t find it even once, much less five times.

I catch sight of Torris hovering near her side, the expression on his face so tender that I don’t have the heart to tell her she already had it, not when it’s now beyond her reach. From the sadness in her eyes, I suspect she already knows.

“Wait. If you were watching us so much, why didn’t I see you?” The thought of ghosts being able to hide from me is troublesome.

Mabel’s brows rise in surprise, and she shrugs. “Most of the ghosts here avoid the living. If you hadn’t noticed, many of the people here are fucking crazy. The few times I’ve seen you, it’s like you held a wall around yourself and the guys. It practically has barbed wire coiled on top. If I tried to approach, my body would fade.”

My shoulders relax at her reassurance. With Jace being able to see ghosts, I reinforced my walls to protect him. It’s a relief to know that it worked. I wince and send her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“I understand.” She grins back, completely unperturbed. “The living are weird about ghosts. Some demand answers when confronted by the unknown, while others just scream and scream.”

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