Page 10 of Edge of Wonder

It was liberating!

Over the years, I’d had a few close calls, and once, guilt almost made me go back on my own, but I couldn’t give up my hard-earned independence or the name I’d made for myself. I refused to be a puppet while some mystical force pulled my strings.

Still, somewhere out there, a young woman waited—probably pissed—for me to come for her. In a way, my ghost Alice was right. While not an ex-lover, any minute my past could come charging through the door. And considering I was years late for my destiny, it was safe to say a certain amount of revenge might be in order.

“So,” Alice murmured without turning from the window. “We have three days. Have you ever solved a case that quickly?”

I considered answering her honestly, but I didn’t want to undermine my credibility. The truth was no, it usually took a lot longer than that. It also didn’t help that there was no record in Julian’s file of a young woman ever living at the cottage. We were starting from scratch.

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” I reassured her. “I have a plan. We’ll address the usual tropes first, then fine-tune as we go.” Rummaging through my bag, I pulled a leather-bound journal from its depths. “In my experience, there are usually three main reasons a ghost has unfinished business. Since we don’t have a lot of time, we’ll attack all three at once.”

“How expedient of us.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

Alice gave up her perch by the window and strolled closer to examine my journal. I lit a lantern and placed it on the workbench, scattering dust bunnies and various tools. She hovered by my elbow while I flipped to an open page.

“Is this where you keep the names of the dead?” she asked.

“If you mean my client list, then yes. I keep track of them all, along with notes of their life and other observations, sometimes in their own words. In my line of work, you see how easily people are forgotten after they die. Sure, everyone promises to remember, but many don’t. Life happens. People move on. But this—” I tapped the journal with my index finger. “This never forgets. It’s their written legacy.”

She traced a finger over the empty page. Her lips parted as if on a sigh, but there was no rush of air. “I’ll have my own entry?”

There was a wistfulness in her voice that surprised me. I’d expected a cynical comeback or smart remark, not the hint of longing that laced her tone.

“You will.”

The silence that followed felt heavy. I watched as she wiped jerkily at her eyes, the unnecessary, but ingrained gesture that ghosts seemed to have trouble breaking. They couldn’t cry, but they still went through the motions.

Caught in a vulnerable moment, she forced a smile and nudged me with her elbow. The act was nothing but a cool brush of air against my skin.

Alice cleared her throat. “Then feel free to write about my beauty at length. Roughly two pages worth.”

“It would take at least three.”

A bubble of laughter burst from her lips, lightening the mood. The sound was almost musical—another one of her siren traits.

“Save your charms for a girl with a beating heart. You’ll get further.” She shook her head, but couldn’t hide the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“And risk gaining the wrath of a vindictive ex-lover? I’ll take my chances with a ghost who’s incapable of wielding a weapon.”

Alice crossed her arms and cocked her head. “Please tell me you haven’t been chased through the village streets by a horde of jealous women carrying pickaxes?”

I winked. “Just the one time.”

“Insufferable—”

“Lowlife,” I finished for her, earning me another one of her secret smiles.

That’s when I realized that regardless of the weight hanging over my shoulders, I was having fun.

Alice was different than I’d expected. It was easy to imagine her full of life. I wondered how she’d managed to exist in isolation when she seemed to have such a contagious spirit.

Where did she come from? Did she have any friends, family…lovers? The last thought made the back of my neck itch. Which was absurd. Love was a tool people used to bend someone to their will. I wanted no part of it.

Alice drummed her fingers on the workbench. “So, Sebastian, besides filling your notebook with all of my enchanting qualities, you’re going to help me resolve my unfinished business? I have to tell you, I can’t remember anything from before becoming a ghost.”

“That’s normal. Ghosts are like blank slates. Most of the time, I get information from close family members or friends. Though, in your case, I’ll have to do some digging around town to find out when and how you died. But like I said, we’ll start with the three tenets and work from there.”

“Tenets?”

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