Page 26 of Ghostridden
I collected Gil in his carrier and headed upstairs. “Hope our resident ghost isn’t a voyeur, Gil, because I really can’t go another day without a proper shower.”
My hips complained strongly about sleeping on the floor a second night running, but after Avi’s remarks about saving the bed for his and Oren’s first night in the house, I didn’t want to take the chance that might trigger him. Yeah, there were other beds, but I wanted to keep my footprint in the house as small as possible, at least until Avi and I had another chat or two and I had a chance to ask him what would make him happy.
Unfortunately, I suspected I was completely incapable of providing what would truly make him happy: Oren.
I took a shower in the bathroom in the hallway, which seemed to have the fewest personal touches. No ghost stuck his head through the door, so I counted that as a win, but it was still one of the shortest showers of my life.
I shook out my curls—I’d learned early in life not to comb or brush them unless I wanted to resemble a tumbleweed—and dressed in my least-worn black jeans and a dusty blue pinstripe button-up, which was about as formal as my clothes went atthe moment. When you worked from home in a practically invisible job, you didn’t have a lot of occasions to go out on the town. Which was another thing Greg objected to, along with my composure in the face of his escalating efforts to provoke an argument:“My gawd, Maz, can’t you see howseriousthis is?”
He broke that one out for any topic from our precarious relationship to the lack of almond milk in the fridge. “What will it take to get you toengagefor once in your life?”
I couldn’t help that—my mom had also been relentlessly calm, claiming that panic never solved anything but to breed more panic.
“Congratulations, Greg, and sorry, Mom,” I muttered to my reflection. “I’m living in a haunted house. I might have finally found something that’ll push me over the edge.”
Gil watched me tame my scruff with my beard trimmer from his perch on the counter next to the sink with his usual judgmental expression, occasionally licking a paw and swiping it over his ear as if to show me his clearly superior grooming method.
Crap. Gil.
Even though he didn’t seem unduly disturbed by Avi’s presence, I didn’t know if the reverse was also true. I couldn’t leave him alone in the house, not until I was certain he’d be safe. However, I couldn’t inflict Gil on the Manor, even if Saul understood the reason for my worry, because the museum was a public place. If any visitors were allergic to cats, it would be a problem.
He batted the water as I rinsed off the trimmer and weighed my options. Ricky’s Tia Sofia had seemed to like Gil, and—what was more important—he seemed to like her. Would she be willing to cat-sit for me? Couldn’t hurt to ask, as long as I made sure to emphasize thatnowas a perfectly okay response.
“Come on, big guy.” I turned off the water and scooped him up. “Let’s see if our neighbor is willing to put you up for the day.”
I put him back in his carrier—earning a glare before he circled around to present his very judgmental butt. “Yeah, yeah. I know. But it’s for your own good.”
His tail twitched twice. He never believed me when I said that about the vet, either.
I crept downstairs, peering into the library from the landing. It didn’tseemlike any other literature had launched itself overnight. I scuttled down the rest of the stairs and through the family room, where all the throw pillows were neatly in place. The kitchen, too, was just as pristine as it was last night. Except…
I set Gil’s carrier down and edged toward the counter, where a single piece of white paper lay. The hair on my neck prickled, because the paper contained one typed word:
sorry
I cleared my throat. “It’s okay. But if, you know, you’re the one who’s been stuffing the keyholes with sawdust? I’d really appreciate it if maybe you could not do that today?”
I waited, my gaze darting around the room, but nobody appeared and nothing moved. I wasn’t sure whether that constituted agreement, or whether I’d just been talking to myself.
I pocketed my keys, and as I stowed my laptop in my messenger bag, my gaze caught on the paper once more. Saul and Professor DeHaven would probably swoon with this evidence, along with details about my chat with Avi, so before I could second-guess myself, I carefully slid the page into the outside pocket of the bag. They’d probably have preferred to see itin situ, but it was just lying on the counter, something I—or anybody else—could have done.
I glanced over my shoulder as the phantom spiders returned for their daily Zumba warmup. A ghost was one thing. But this house was really big. Could there be secret passages? Crawlspaces? Gaps in the walls? I’d heard stories about intruders living inside their victims’ house formonthsbefore going on a rampage. But the house was quiet except for the hum of the big refrigerator. And it had been empty when I arrived. Could someone live in a house undetected without leaving any trace?
“You know what, Gil? I think I prefer the ghost, so let’s go with that, huh? You’re still not staying here alone, though.”
I grabbed the reusable bag with Gil’s cat food and toys, and my hand was on the garage door handle when my doorbell rang. I checked my watch: 7:30. Who went calling at this hour?
Like, for instance, I’d been about to do to Sofia.
“Talk about glass houses,” I muttered as I schlepped down the hall, messenger bag, cat carrier and all. I perked up a little when I spotted Ricky through the glass.
I opened the door with a smile I couldn’t suppress. “Hey.”
His smile faded a little when he saw my all my luggage. “Are you leaving?”
“What? Oh, no.” I chuckled and patted my messenger bag. “Just heading over to the Manor to start my new gig.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Does Gil assist you in your work?”
