Page 121 of Zero Chance

Until the book shot into the elevator with me at the last second, and a creepy coldness spread over my skin.Because, holy shit, the ghost was shutinsidethe elevator with me.

I swallowed thickly and shuddered out a breath that fogged the air.Even though I didn’t need to check, I stole a quick peek at the amulet Keene had given to me.It was currently dangling from a bracelet on my wrist and clouding with a thick, puffy white smoke.

Too afraid to move as the single book hovered expectantly in front of me, I gulped heavily and waited for it to start chopping into me like an ax, but it just floated before me, very unthreatening.

She communicates through books, I remembered Keene telling me.And realizing she was just trying to talk to me—not kill me—I slowly lowered my attention to the title and read what it said.

It was a fiction novel titledIt’s a Waverly Lifeby Maria Murnane.

I blinked, stunned.“Hey, you remember my name.”

The book shifted up and down, nodding.

Well.

Warmth flooded my chest, and my fear evaporated.I smiled at the book, utterly charmed.Swear to God, I think I actually fell in love with her at that moment.

Except I also went a bit sad and sympathetic.I’d always thought death was the end.No more pain.No more suffering.No more bad.Just blissful nothing.Except if she was seriously stuck here forever, she could see her son while never being able to touch him.And that must be miserable.

It made me think maybe not everyone’s death was the peaceful, untroubled escape I’d imagined it to be.

Tucking some hair behind my ear, I motioned toward the cart.“Hey, I was just going to shelve these books,” I announced, pushing the button to re-open the doors.“Do you, uh, do you want to…?”

I didn’t even get to finish the question; books began to lift off the cart and soar through the rows of shelves.Within seconds, the cart was empty.

“Cool,” I uttered, watching in awe.

But seriously, now what the hell was I supposed to do for the rest of my shift?

A cold breeze crawled up the back of my neck, telling me the ghost had returned, finished with all the work that probably would’ve taken me half an hour to do.

“Wow.Uh, thank you, Mrs.Dugger,” I said, bowing my head slightly to show my gratitude because I had no idea how I was supposed to treat her.

But I must’ve done something wrong because a book whipped off the shelf and slapped me on the side of the arm in reprimand.

“Oww,” I said, rubbing the spot.It barely smarted, but it had still surprised me.

Seven more books joined the first, and I reared back in worry.

Great.Here we go again.I guess my end was going to be death by book stoning after all.

But instead of coming at me like a pack of spears, the books arranged themselves on a nearby table, waiting for me to approach and read them.

Stepping forward, I frowned in confusion, unable to make sense of what she was telling me.None of the books had anything in common.And when I tried to read their titles together as a sentence, it just sounded like gobbledygook.

Finally, I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted Keene, snapping a picture of the book arrangement before saying,

What does this mean?

Twenty seconds later, he responded.

Who dis?

Rolling my eyes, I winced up at where I assumed his mother was standing—or floating or whatever—just waiting for me to understand her message.

It’s Waverly.I’m working at the library, and your mom gave me this message.Do you understand what she’s trying to tell me?

Instead of answering, he wrote,

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