Chapter 11
“Can you see? Hear?” Gabriel adjusted his earbud and looked around the town square, trying to keep his head movements smooth and level. The stalls surrounding the square and the Christmas tree in the middle—all heavily decorated—made the place look even smaller than usual. The crowd didn’t help, either.
“Yes, I can see!” Ida’s voice sounded in his ear. “And I think I’m catching some music. Is that Last Christmas?”
“I don’t know why I expected anything different here.”
“Snob.”
“Be nice. I can still turn this off.”
She snorted.
With one wireless earbud and a gizmo that looked like a high-tech monocle (ordered online especially for the occasion) Gabriel was bound to raise a few eyebrows at the Christmas fair. But it was the easiest solution. Ida haunted the laptop at home; Gabriel made a video call from his phone and redirected the audio to the earbud and the video to the lens that covered his eye, allowing her to see and hear what he did.
“Uy, motion sickness. Motion sickness!”
Gabriel steadied his head. “Better?”
“Yup. Oh, sweets! Go to that stall!”
“You know you can’t eat them.”
“You won’t let a girl have any fun, will you? I just want to look at them.”
Gabriel headed for a stall selling Christmas candy and carefully and slowly swept his gaze across the selection. Candy canes in all colors and sizes, peppermints, Christmas tree-shaped chocolates—were those cookies covered in actual glitter?
“What can I get you?” the vendor asked.
“Noth—”
“Candy cane. The big one,” Ida said in his ear.
Gabriel almost shook his head before he remembered it’d made her queasy.
“The candy cane over there, please.”
With his purchase concluded, he held up the candy for Ida to admire their newest acquisition.
“It feels delicious,” she said.
“Remember we have an actual goal here.”
Forgive.Gabriel scoured his surroundings for opportunities and noticed a man, carrying a steaming plastic cup, filled to the brim. With the man’s back to him, Gabriel covertly moved onto his path and stood his ground.
“What are we doing?”
“Wait for it,” he whispered. Six, five, four, three, two, one—the man collided with Gabriel while doing a half-turn. Mulled wine went flying to the sky, and onto Gabriel’s scarf.
“Jesus!” The man turned. “Wait, not Jesus. Gabriel!”
“Jason?”
“Oh, I’m sorry! I spilled on you!” Jason looked around as if searching for a means to help, then awkwardly dabbed Gabriel’s scarf with his sleeve. “And that wasn’t even the best mulled wine. Mark and I are working our way up.”
“It’s all right, it’s just a scarf.” Gabriel removed it and shuddered as a wave of cold air hit his neck. “Not the best one, either.”
“Are you sure?”
“I forgive you.”
Nothing.
“I definitely forgive you.”
Jason squinted. “Are you okay?”
“Yup. I’ll just take this back to the car.” Gabriel waved his scarf and turned.
“I think you’ll have to commit a bigger atrocity,” Ida said.
“The problem isn’t what I’m doing. I have to make other people do bad things to me.” A passing woman gave him a strange look. Gabriel pointed to his ear. “Friend calling. We’re playing long-distance Monopoly.”
He disposed of the scarf, then approached the square by slowly circling around it, looking for opportunities. Who appeared dangerous in the right way?
A smooth, black ponytail caught his attention. That hair, that side profile—for a second, Gabriel was frozen to the spot; in the next, he was hurrying toward the woman, dressed in a familiar fashionable mohair coat. “Wyn! Wyn!” What was Wynona doing here? Was it possible things had improved in the city, and she came here to tell him the good news?
He tapped her shoulder. “Wynona.”
She turned around, unfamiliar blue eyes gazing at him from under furrowed eyebrows.
Gabriel took a step back. “I-I-I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
“No problem.” The woman gave him a slightly weirded-out smile and turned back to the man she’d been talking with.
Gabriel remained in place, one arm still half stretched out. Of course it wouldn’t be Wynona, and he was delusional about possible surprises. And outside of that, one would never find Wyn at some cutesy little fair. She’d be as out of place here as he was.
Drifting snowflakes blurred in front of his eyes, and Christmas jingles faded into the background. He’d expected a heavy lump of disappointment in his chest when the woman turned out not to be Wyn, but there was none. Or perhaps, the feeling was too subtle to reach over the joyous surroundings.
No, it wasn’t the fair. Or at least not only. He hadn’t thought of Wyn in— hell, he hadn’t even counted that. When had he last missed lying next to her, her sweet perfume lingering on his pillow the next day? Before all the fuss with the Christmas fair, before digging up graves, before Rosalie, before Ida—
With the rest of the world subdued, he grew painfully aware of the silence in his ear. “Ida?”
No response.
“Ida? Are you there?” Panic sneaked into his voice. Had he accidentally fulfilled the last condition, and Ida disappeared? There was no shimmering feeling in his chest, but maybe it was different for the ending. “Ida! Please!”
The earbud screeched. “Sorry. I’m here.”
He slumped in relief. “Thank god. I thought I’d lost you.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, literally. That I’d fulfilled the last condition and you were gone.”
“No, no.” Ida’s voice sounded light, but there was something underneath it. “An online game popped up. Something with having a farm. So I tried it and got distracted. What were you doing for the past few minutes? Any progress in your scheming?”
“None. Just walking around.”
“Gabriel, dear!” Marge materialized from the crowd and popped a kiss on Gabriel’s cheek before he could react. “So glad to see you here. Would you like to play our games?”
“I seriously hope she means actual games,” Ida said.
“Same.”
“I’m sorry?” Marge blinked.
“S-some. Some games!” Gabriel smiled back.
“We have a treasure hunt with drawn clues. One for kids and one for grown-ups.”
“You promised you’d have fun,” Ida said.
Gabriel swallowed a “treasure hunt doesn’t count as fun” reply. “Sure.”
“Here you go.” Marge whipped a paper out of a cheerfully decorated folder. “Move quick if you want the rewards. Jason and Mark are on it, too, and last I saw, they were doing very well.”
“Not since you sabotaged Jason,” Ida murmured, and Gabriel suppressed a laugh.
As Marge left, Gabriel raised the paper with the first clue up for Ida to see, shaking off the last strands of thoughts about Wynona. He didn’t know what was stranger—that he hadn’t thought of her in a while, or that forgetting about her didn’t hurt as nearly as much as he’d expected.
“Is it just me, or does it look like poop?” Ida said.
“I think spending too much time inside a computer is starting to affect you.” Although the drawing did look suspiciously like a cute version of human excrement.
“True. A bit more and I might start speaking in emojis. I’m already feeling very Christmas tree.”
Gabriel titled his head. “It might be one of the candies in that stall.”
“Thumbs up, sunglasses, fire, fire.”
“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”
Ida laughed—a proper, happy, jingle bell laugh.
Ah, hell.The game was stupid, but she was clearly enjoying the whole experience. And when she laughed—well, he didn’t feel the same kind of warmth he had when fulfilling a condition, but it was similar. Maybe even better. More tangible, somehow. “Let’s go back to the candy stall and find the next clue.”
In the next half hour, Gabriel had a quarrel with a stall owner, insisting she was hiding a clue and sabotaging him, dug through a pile of discarded food boxes because Ida was “triple check mark, wrapped gift” certain one clue led there, and accidentally broke a branch on the tree as he searched for the right bauble.
But he also got stepped on twice in the crowd, inciting a perfect opportunity for an “I forgive you”, only to have it still not work. He also forgave a kid for accidentally hitting him with a snowball and the food vendor for running out of turkey slices with cranberry sauce just as Gabriel turned up.
Nothing.
On the other hand, Ida seemed very pleased with the visit to the fair, and Gabriel had to admit it wasn’t the worst thing. The parties his firm held—ones that were usually as much about socializing as making new deals—were exciting. This? It was louder, yet more relaxed; colder, yet warmer; the mulled wine cheaper, yet smelling better. And it somehow felt like a giant gingerbread cookie.
“Hold your horses and raise your white flag.” Jason approached as Gabriel was going through his second cup of coffee-flavored hot chocolate. “The treasure hunt is over, and the winner stands in front of you.”
Behind Jason, Mark raised a red Christmas stocking with silver snowflakes and a big note with the title THIS IS THE TREASURE attached to it.
“You sure that’s the right one?” Gabriel asked. “Seems a bit obvious.”
“Don’t you try your diversion tricks on me. We’ve already checked. It’s a potpourri making kit. Now, I know what you’re gonna say.” Jason put a hand to his heart. “You wanted it for yourself.”
“I’ll part with it with a heavy heart and revenge on my mind,” Gabriel said in a fake serious voice.
Jason laughed and punched his shoulder. “Merry Christmas. I’m glad we have you here.”
“Merry Christmas to you too, guys.”
“And from me, as well!” Ida said. “Tell them party popper, wrapped gift, Santa Claus.”
“Uh, a friend also wishes you the best.”
Jason and Mark shared a look.
“I told her about you. She called me while I was getting rid of the scarf and I explained the whole incident.”
“You’re such a smooth liar,” Ida said.
Yes, he was. But he had a feeling he wasn’t the only one.
“She must’ve hated that scarf,” Jason mused. “To be honest, you can do better. With scarves, I mean.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Too harsh?”
“No. I forgive you,” Gabriel said, and wasn’t too surprised when once again, nothing happened.
“The judging for the snowman contest’s about to start.” Mark looked at Gabriel. “Wanna come? We like to make bets on what the scores are gonna be. Purely for fun.”
“And you can see people’s weird interpretations of a snowman.” Jason beamed a smile at him.
“You’ve sacrificed yourself enough,” Ida said. “If you don’t want to go, I can Google for the best excuses.”
“No.” Gabriel shook his head. “I mean, yes. Let’s go see some snowmen.”
***
Ida was haunting the deer statue when Gabriel returned. When she flicked out, he was in the living room, calling for her, but turned to the kitchen just as she came to the doorway. She stepped across, back out, in, out—and fortunately, the loop released and let her into the room. Gabriel still hadn’t noticed her.
Ida’s cheer had gradually dwindled during his ride back—he’d ended the call before that. The evening had been lovely, but once she was left to her own devices, fear and anxiety easily sneaked back in, fed by one particular event at the fair.
Gabriel thought he’d seen Wynona. Even if she could forget things, she’d never forget the tone of his voice at that moment—like he’d spotted the most beautiful Christmas present.
“There you are.” Gabriel stepped out of the kitchen. “Careful with that sneaking around.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” Like she hadn’t meant to delete Wynona’s messages, but did so, anyway. Worse—kept quiet about it. And even worse—loved it when Gabriel was having a good time, because that must mean she wasn’t all bad, and he didn’t hate everything here.
“Something wrong? I know tonight wasn’t the perfect conclusion to the holy trinity of successfully fulfilled terms of the contract.”
Everything felt wrong. Perhaps even more so because today, she’d had a glimpse of how beautiful life could be—not just in the company of other people, but with Gabriel. And it wasn’t fair because she had to leave, and he had to, as well, so why couldn’t he just—just—
“Why can’t you forgive?” she said. “It’s a simple act, it should be easy.”
“Easy?” Gabriel’s tone took on some defensiveness.
“Well, yes.” Growing agitated, she circled the living room. “I don’t see how there could be any tricks to this part. You can really interpret forgiveness only one way. And if you could just do it already, you’d be out and you could go back to…” His perfect life. His perfect Wynona. His perfect career with that perfect case he was dying to get.
And she could take the cowardly way out and never tell him about the messages she’d deleted. It wouldn’t matter, because she wouldn’t be here to hold him back anymore.
“You’re the one to talk. Isn’t revenge why ghosts get trapped here?”
“Yes, but I realized the error of my ways!”
“Well, excuse me.” Gabriel spread his arms. “I’m just a normal, short-lived human who doesn’t have the time to go on a fifty-year psychology course to learn how to deal with my issues.” He drew back, as if being surprised by his own outburst, and raked his hair. “Look. Not being forgiving isn’t bad. Where do you think I’d get in my job if I forgave everyone and everything? Hell, the prisons would be empty!”
“And I suppose you’re proud of being heartless.”
“No. Oh, no.” He pointed a finger at her. “That’s not the same.”
She was going too far, she knew it. Gabriel wasn’t heartless, and it hurt to call him that when she wasn’t angry at him, but rather at herself. But there was another part of her, awakening after years—decades—angry and frightening, all shadow and no light, and it screamed inside her: You’ll never get out.You’re trapped on this Earth, forever. There’s no solution; only an endlesscycle of defeating the desire for revenge and having it wake up again.
Lights flickered.
“Ida.” Gabriel’s tone was somewhere between warning and worry.
The TV came on but displayed only blurred lines and white noise.
“Ida, calm down.”
Delicate, fern-like crystals of frost appeared on the corners of the windows and spread until they covered the glass. Scorching energy surged inside her. Oh, that anger, she’d missed it.
No, I didn’t.
Yes, you did.
From behind the sofa, Gabriel stretched out a hand, as if trying to help.
Not help. He wants to run.
“Listen to me. Calm down. This isn”t you.”
No, it wasn’t—or she thought so. She could hardly remember who she used to be. The century spent as a ghost—was that still her? Could she claim she was good just because she had decades to think it over?
The coffee table rattled.
“Ida, please.” No more warning in Gabriel’s voice—only worry. And fear.
Calm down. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.
Her whole body pulsated, as if she was collapsing onto herself while also being stretched, torn apart at the same time. Was this it? Was there another way to pass through—was she dying, even in death?
Gabriel’s eyes widened.
Help me. Please.
She reached out a hand. “I-I-I don’t know—”
The room disappeared in front of her eyes.