Page 31 of Unhinged Magic
Skye
Ifeltthepresencebefore he appeared, the same one that visited me frequently but always refused to speak or show himself.
Until now.
“What did you just say?” Wesley’s voice broke the madness sweeping my mind. His hand gripped my shoulder, the other nudging my head back to the stunning jade eyes I had lost myself in only moments prior.
I stammered, utter shock freezing my world as I fought for words. “It’s you.”
Confusion rippled Wesley’s forehead. “What?”
I pointed at the mirror image of Wesley sitting in the chair. “Twins,” I whispered. The word reverberated through the room, bouncing off its walls as if it couldn’t settle.
Hollowed beats passed, like there was no heart to my pulse, only a dull ache. The walls seemed to come closer, compressing around me and stalling the breath in my chest. Fearing what may come next.
The ghost moved his gaze between Wesley and I. He fisted a hand in the palm of his other one, staring down at them momentarily. His dark hair was cut shorter than Wesley’s, but, as I looked between them both, the resemblance was astonishing. Identical.
The ghost’s lips moved slightly, finally sounding a word. A whisper. “Darling.”
I couldn’t look away from him; something behind those words, thoseeyes, just seemed so familiar. Not in a 'they looked exactly like Wesley way'; it was more than that.
What was it?
I tore myself from his unexplainable pull, turning to Wesley, who stared at me like my brains hung out of my ears. His face had paled, his pupils dark and wide. He turned to the chair, where I knew he would see nothing, before returning to me again.
If his lips hadn’t moved, I may not have heard him.
“Brother?” The word came from him softly, in a tone so somber I felt the syllables cling to my heart.
I turned back to the chair, to the ghost who moved his gaze to Wesley, watching him with curiosity.
I grabbed Wesley’s hand, lacing my fingers through his. “Identical,” I whispered, trying to get my head around this more for him than anything.
I knew Wesley had lost a brother when we were young in a tragic accident, but it still made sense why I saw his ghost at the same age Wesley was now. At my boarding school, I learned that, until a spirit moved on from the void, their ghost form kept aging until they passed over when their life was naturally supposed to end. Spirits could also appear as young children even when they were an old soul, the reason behind it simple: so as not to scare the living. Wesley’s brother was choosing to show himself to me like this.
Wesley pulled his hand from mine so hastily I startled. “He’s dead.” His head shook vigorously, pressing his fingers to his eyes. “Hedied,” he repeated, as if trying to convince me I was wrong.
I could not hide the sadness in my tone. “He did.”
I waited for my words to sink in. For Wesley to draw his own conclusion.
He stood, pacing the room, careful to not pass the chair. Shoving a hand through his hair, he suddenly stilled
“Are you saying my brother’s ghost has been haunting you? Is sitting in that chair right now?”
I nodded, weighing my next words. “Yes, he’s here, and no, he doesn’t haunt me as such. He… visits every so often.” Even that would be a loose term for it.
Wesley’s hands fell to his sides. “This is so messed up. How frequent? Why?”
“I don’t know.”
He forced a hand into the air between us. “What do you mean you don’ t know?” He glanced at the chair again before quickly looking away.
“He doesn’t speak,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm for both our sakes.
Wesley frowned. “If you don’t talk, what does he do?”
Embarrassment washed over me at the memory of this spirit’s last visit. Of the feeling of breath on my neck, the whisper I thought I’d heard. When I didn’t answer, an agonized sound left Wesley, his hands threading together behind his neck.
