Page 50 of Haunted Hearts
And something’s getting in.
I squeeze my eyes shut, frantically trying to center myself, grasping at every strand of thought, every wisp of concentration. I just need to focus. Keep the wall intact.
“Will…” Zeke’s voice is shaky. “I can see her.”
As soon as he says it, so can I. And I know exactly who she is, although I don’t know how.
She’s Lydia’s mom.
The spirit hovers somewhere above the spray of broken beer bottles, both here and not here, a shadow if a shadow could bemade of light. She’s gorgeous, shimmering, something between a woman and a wispy, gleaming ray of moonlight. She takes my fucking breath away.
I grit my teeth, still digging my mental heels in, trying to keep that brilliant, shimmering woman from getting any closer. I know if I let go now, I may never be able to take myself completely back. The switch will be flipped, and the spirits that swirl around me will know it. I’ll be fair game. I’ll?—
A gust of shimmering coolness wraps around me, bringing with it the unmistakable hint of vanilla. The spirit’s reminding me, nudging me back to what I most want to not have to think about right now: Lydia.
I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing in that beautiful, memory-laden scent. With my eyes closed, I no longer see the silvery tendrils of Lydia’s mom’s spirit, but the coolness remains. And in the darkness of my mind, a flash of memory plays out.
Lydia’s porcelain skin on mine. Her delicate frame in my arms as the fire next to us crackles, the waves washing up on the shore. That still-hopeful smile she wore when she told me about her mom, when she realized that she and I were not so different after all. The way her dark eyes shone when she saw that banister—and the way they bore no light at all when she showed up on my doorstep an hour ago.
And I realize suddenly what I think I’ve known for a while now, but which I didn’t yet have the strength to believe. I would do anything for this woman. She saw right through my bullshit, and she expected better of me than I gave her. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her down again.
Summoning every ounce of mental strength I can muster, I focus my entire self on one thing: the wall. Every cell, every fiber, every wisp and spark of energy. It’s all there. I hold it in my mind’s eye for one more moment, feel the rush and pulse of my blood.
And then I let it all come shattering down.
twenty-seven
WILL
I’m still gripping the counter, eyes squeezed shut. All I can hear is the heavy rasp of my breath, the pounding of the blood in my ears.
Lydia’s mom is gone. The only trace of her is the shattered shards of energy—what used to be my wall—that curl around my feet like plumes of silvery smoke.
“Will,” Zeke breathes. He’s backed against the fridge. “What. The actual. Fuck.”
I glance at him, but I don’t answer. I’m suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion so intense it feels like I might never catch my breath. The room is still echoing.
The thing is, despite how absolutely wrecked I feel, there’s something electric coursing through me. The blue of Zeke’s eyes is more vivid. The moonlight streaming in through the window is brighter, more defined. Even my body feels more alive, like it’s been hit with a sudden pulse of starlight, and I’ve sobered up completely. If I listen, I can feel the whisper of spirits around me, crawling over my skin. Making themselves known.
After nineteen years, the wall is gone. And I’m unfiltered, undiluted.
My voice breaks the silence as I turn to Zeke. “Did you… see that? Or did I just feel it?”
Zeke huffs out a shaky laugh. “Oh, I saw it. That shit was crazy. Whatwasthat?”
“It was… that was Lydia’s mom. The spirit.”
“The librarian?”
“Yeah. She died when Lydia was ten. The library was Lydia’s connection to her mom—that’s what this whole thing is about. And now Lydia’s mom showed up here, tome, and…”
“Okay, but what the hell was that… that…” Zeke waves a hand wildly, trying to find the right word. “Thatexplosion?! You shut your eyes all tight and started breathing all heavy, and I legit thought you were dying, and then suddenly there’s this silvery fuckingfireworksshow in your kitchen!”
I rub my jaw. Zeke’s description of what just happened tracks. That’s about how it all looked in my mind, too.
“That was my wall. Shattering.”
Zeke raises his eyebrows. “Your wall? As in, your keep-the-ghosts-out wall? Holy shit…”
