Page 49 of Ghostridden
She’d drawn the line onHeliotrope, anyway, so I could be forgiven for having reasonable expectations about her intelligence and fortitude.
I inhaled deeply and exhaled between pursed lips before turning to the first page and beginning to read.
Whereas my Husband has devoted all our Resources to his Pursuits, it behooves me to chronicle his Actions, ere he once again repeat failed Trials to no avail and to the great detriment of our Family’s wealth and well-being.
Hotdamn, but Frances Richdale was the shit.
Grinning, I kept reading, enjoying Frances’s acerbic commentary about Thaddeus’s increasingly desperate attempts more than the accounts of the experiments themselves. Not because the explanations were poor. Far from it. Frances was meticulous in her descriptions, covering not only the steps Thaddeus employed, but also the date of the attempt, the weather, the room—its relative heat, its furnishings, and how they differed from previous trails—the other participants, their attitudes, and of course, the results.
Which were always failures.
I suspect Frances kept such detailed records so she could prove to Thaddeus that he’d done the same thing before, without success. Unfortunately, that may have backfired on her, because as time went on, armed with her comprehensive reports, Thaddeus began tweaking one tiny item at a time.
“Maz?” Saul’s voice from the doorway made me fumble the journal, but I managed to catch it before fell. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but it’s past six.” He chuckled. “I admire your dedication, but there’s no time limit on this project.”
“Past six? Crap!” I glanced around frantically for something to mark my place before spotting the blue ribbon that had bound the journal. “I’ve got a date at seven.”
Saul made that shooing motion again. “Then get moving. Maybe tomorrow you can fill me in on what you found that’s so fascinating. I’ll lock up here.”
“Absolutely.” I grabbed my jacket. “Thanks, Saul. See you tomorrow!”
I jetted out of the Manor and zoomed out of the lot in a spray of gravel. When I got to my place, the Transitions Transportation truck was gone. I pulled the Civic into the garage and ran for the mud room entrance as the garage door trundled down behind me, shrugging out of my jacket as I ran.
The instant I stepped inside, though, Avi popped in front of me, eyes wild. “Someone was here.”
“Yeah, I know.” I dodged around him and hung my jacket on a hook. “The delivery guys. They helped Ricky move all your stuff up to the attic.”
“Notthem,” Avi snapped. “Somebody else.”
“A-another ghost?” Fear clawed at my belly, but can you blame me? I’d spent all afternoon reading about all the ways peoplefailedto reach a ghost, and I had not one but possibly two successes but had no ideawhy.
“Possibly. I don’t know.” When he motioned for me to follow, his arm passed through mine, making me shiver. He took off through the kitchen, and man, he could reallymovebecause I had to run to keep up. He stopped outside the library doors and pointed inside, his faded body glitching like a spliced videotape.
“Not the library,” I muttered as I slowed. “Not again.” I peeked inside, expecting the shower of books. But instead, every single one of Oren’s boxes was upended, their contents strewn over the floor.
“This time,” Avi said, flickering like a strobe light, “I know it wasn’t me.”
I glanced through him at the front door. It was ajar, although I could have sworn I locked it behind me, but I’d been distracted by Ricky, so maybe I’d forgotten.
“I believe you.” I pushed the door closed, hearing the latch click. “But I don’t think it was another ghost either. This time, somebody actually broke in. The question is, what are they looking for?”
I didn’t waste any time calling the ghost posse. I’d promised, after all.
“Hey, Saul. It’s Maz. There’s been another incident here at the house.”
“Another manifestation?” Saul’s voice practically quivered with excitement, although I caught the sound of another voice in the background.
“Maybe. Well, I mean Avi’s here, but we’re not sure about the source of the… interference. Should I call Professor DeHaven too?”
“Don’t bother. She’s teaching tonight. I’ll fill her in on our investigation later.”
That other voice—which I assumed was Jerry—said something else I couldn’t catch, and Saul, clearly responding to Jerry, not me, said, “It will only take a few minutes.” Another muffled response. “All right, no more than an hour, I promise. Maz?”
“Still here.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Great. See you soon.”
