Ghostly: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy (Perks of Being Paranormal Book 1)

Chapter 13

Bent down, Gabriel stared at the deer-hog statue he’d brought to the coffee table. The laptop next to it beeped every once in a while with a new message that Ernest sent him regarding Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy’s case.

But instead of diving into work, he kept returning to the statue.

The low humming had been coming from it ever since Ida disappeared, in the middle of her outburst, three days ago. Gabriel assumed she was haunting the statue, but with every passing hour, he grew more worried. She’d never been away for so long. And the way she’d left—what if something happened to her? What if she was trapped in there? What if she was somehow… broken?

“Ida, please. If you can hear me, everything is fine. You can come back.” Gabriel touched the statue. Was it warmer than usual? “Please, come back.”

The laptop beeped again, and Gabriel forced himself to get back to business. He had begged Ernest for this case, and had a ton of research to do. Hadn’t there been a time when he wanted Ida to be quiet so he could work in peace?

The statue stopped humming.

And Gabriel’s heart, for a second, stopped pumping.

“Gabriel.” Ida stood by the bookcase.

He’d never felt such a weight lift off his chest; not even when he’d found out he passed all of his exams in the first year of law school. She was back, and she looked the same as always—if a little confused.

“What happened?” She turned in a circle, taking in the living room as if she’d never seen it before, then lowered her gaze to the statue. “Why is the deer here?”

“You don’t remember anything from the past three days?”

“No, I—I was inside that for three days?” She glided to the sofa. “I missed all the Christmas movies.”

Gabriel put a palm to his forehead. “I was worried sick about you, and you regret missing Christmas movies?” He didn’t know whether to be angry or laugh.

He definitely wanted to laugh just seeing she was fine, though.

“Oh, dear.” Ida sat down and covered her mouth. “I was so angry. I think I popped in there as a preventative measure before I destroyed anything. Hurt… you.”

She leaned toward him, but stopped before they collided. In a bit of awkward maneuvering, she ended with her head almost touching his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her, suppressing a flinch when he accidentally passed through her back. It wasn’t much of a consoling hug, but it seemed to help her.

If only he could hug her properly, share the warmth, feel her soft heartbeat. Feel her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“I provoked you. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I get touchy on the whole forgiveness subject. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Then I won’t prod again.”

“No. It’s fine.” He closed his eyes. “When I came to law school, I was just the scholarship kid. A nobody. A son of a mechanic and a shop assistant. I know, I know, it’s hard to believe I haven’t always been my amazing self.”

Ida snorted, and he relaxed. “Don’t get me wrong—I don”t mind what my parents’ professions are. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t want more for myself. Unfortunately, the road to success in my new world was most often paved with good connections and first impressions.”

Ida shifted slightly out of his hug, listening intently.

“Make an impression on the right professor, they tell you there’s an opening for an internship at a good firm, one thing leads to another, you know how it goes.”

“Times haven’t changed that much,” she said.

“I thought I’d start with getting into the good graces of a classmate, Anderson. Rich, popular, the golden boy of our class. We were paired together for a mock trial. It’s where you prepare for a case, like a proper lawyer. The case is fake, but you present it in front of a real court, a real judge. It’s very exciting.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

He smiled, but it quickly faded. “Anderson said he had some personal issues and asked me if I could help him with his part, as well. ‘Personal issues’ turned into ‘I don’t feel like doing anything’ and I, being the dumbass I was, offered to do all of his work. Research. Crafting arguments. I wrote a closing statement worthy of an Oscar.” He tilted his head left and right. “So I thought, anyway.”

“They didn’t like it?”

“No, no, it was good. When the time for the trial came, Anderson was back to his old self, reportedly, and we went through it. I did my part, and Anderson—well, he did his part…”

“Which was actually your part, too.”

“It went splendidly. The judge loved it. The professor was drooling. I thought Anderson would give me some credit, but he stayed quiet. They praised him, and he… he took it all.”

“So as revenge, you told the truth, and it ended badly?”

“No. I was dumber than that. I kept quiet, thinking Anderson may take the praise, but on the inside, he’d be grateful to me. Maybe he’d even talk to his fancy dad and get me an internship at their family firm for the summer.”

Gabriel traced the armrest of the sofa. “In a week, he didn’t even remember my name.”

Ida was quiet.

“Turns out he never had serious personal issues, just didn’t feel like doing the hard work. But I forgave him. I let it slide. And for what…” He gripped the armrest. “I only made it harder for myself. There was my first chance of getting noticed, all gone because I was a damn idiot.”

“But Anderson succeeded?”

Gabriel’s mind flashed to the courtroom, to Anderson and his snobby, matching legal team—to the smug smile on his face—the photos spilling out on Gabriel’s palm—

Anderson may have lost that one, but he’d won plenty of other cases. And most importantly—that day, he’d humiliated Gabriel, again.

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “He’s very successful, indeed.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it? The desire for revenge?” Ida said. “Not good in a way eating chocolate or tilting your face to the sun does, but it feels satisfying. Fiery. It gives you a certain energy.”

“I suppose it does.”

“I know I try to appear to all the world—well, to you—like a normal person. But I’m not. I…” Ida stood. “What I turned into, the years and decades after my death—that wasn’t me, wasn’t human. It was anger, rage, pure unadulterated vengeance. I thought once I got my revenge, made my family’s life as miserable as I could, I’d leave. Dissolve. Get peace. But I didn’t. Harry died, passed through, and I was still stuck here.” She gazed up, as if trying to fight back tears. “I don’t like what I turned into. I don’t know where that darkness came from, and it’s terrifying.”

“But you’re not like that anymore.”

“I’m still a ghost. I’m still here.”

“Human doesn’t necessarily mean a life state. You still have feelings. Regrets. You’re worried about what you’ve done, and would do anything to not let it happen again. You flicked away before your anger got out of control. You care about our neighbors getting along. You were so worried about that girl in that TV drama the other day—”

“She almost died, and the doctors were busy doing their thing in the closet!” Ida set her hands against her hips.

Gabriel smiled, part at the memory, part at her reaction. “See. You’re more human than half the lawyers I know.”

Ida’s face softened. “You think so?”

“I do,” he said with utmost honesty.

Ida jumped, as if she remembered something, and headed for the bookcase. Her face tensed as she reached for a book and slowly lifted it off the shelf, and shakily transferred it to the coffee table. Ida sat next to Gabriel, focused again, and stretched her hand toward the book. Her fingers hovered above the cover, and then—

She gently opened the book.

A bubble of laughter escaped her, and she looked at Gabriel.

“What did you do?”

“I focused. I tried opening it like a human would.”

“Haunting is far more efficient than normal reading,” he said, his tone light.

“Yes, but maybe it’s time to bring back some of my old practices.” She leaned back on the sofa. “It does take a lot of focus, though, to do such precise work. Maybe you should get me something shorter. I picture book, to begin with.”

Gabriel laughed. “Whatever you wish, it shall be done.” Even though Marge would look at him suspiciously when he turned up at the library, requesting children’s literature.

Ida smiled at him. “You look horrible. Your hair’s all messy.”

Worrying about someone will do that to you.

“It’s getting long, too. You should put it in a man bun.”

“A what?”

“A knot. At the back of the head.” Ida waved her hand around the area on her head. “I don’t know why they need to add ‘man’ to it, it’s just a normal bun, but I think it would look good on you.”

“Too much time in the deer-hog for you.” Gabriel rose. “I’m gonna get some coffee.”

“Sixth time today?”

“Actually, first.” He paused halfway to the kitchen. “I was worried about you, so I… I need to make up for the withdrawal.”

A light swishing of pages came from the living room while Gabriel prepared his coffee. A made-up melody snuck into his head, and he started humming it. One, two, three, four, five, six, coffee done. He poured two cups and headed for the living room, then stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked at his hands. Two cups. And that wasn’t for himself. He was bringing coffee to Ida.

He was bringing coffee to Ida.

The problem wasn’t that she couldn’t drink it. It was the intention. He’d never brought coffee to anyone, not in this context. It was… intimate. Meaningful.

Ida hadn’t noticed his strange behavior; she was deep into her efforts of flipping pages like a normal human being. Gabriel zoned in on the narrow strip of the peachy skin between her high collar and her hairline. A few strands of hair, the ones too short to hold up in her coiffure, caressed that skin, just like he wanted—

The coffee cups rattled, and Gabriel quickly retreated to the kitchen, where he put them down and leaned on the counter, lowering his head.

He wanted Ida. And not just in a way where, if that were possible, he’d want to slide his fingers across her skin, then trail the path with his lips; let down her hair and entangle his hand in its silky texture. He wanted to spend evenings with her on the couch, watching some silly movie; nights with her in bed, sleeping only occasionally; mornings with her sitting across the dining table, rays of sun bringing out the few freckles on her cheeks. He wanted to be with her, inside her, beside her—always.

He wanted more of her laugh. He wanted to make her laugh. He’d never realized how much he needed that—someone to properly laugh with him because of something silly he’d done, not because he told a lame, lawyer-approved joke at a dinner party.

And he wanted a friend. Not someone who thought him charming. Someone who liked him.

Without thinking, he was back on the way to the living room, ready to go for any of the options he’d just daydreamed about, but came to an almost- screeching halt before he reached the sofa.

Ida was still a ghost. Even if she tried to be more human, he knew what she really wanted, and really needed: to be set free. And in the slight chance she felt something akin to what he did, what would they do? Spend the rest of their lives—Gabriel’s life—living like this? With her forever trapped here, him keeping her existence quiet? He’d seen what happened, in her state, when she was upset, when she lost family. Eventually, she’d lose him.

Entrenched in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed he sat down until Ida waved a hand in front of his face.

“Page six!” she said with a child-like enthusiasm. “With progress like that, you can bring Tolstoy next time.”

Desperate, Gabriel tried to wade his way out of his muddled thoughts. It was only a moment of weakness. Loneliness. The other night, he thought he’d seen Wynona—that reminded him he missed the touch of a woman, a physical relationship. It had been two months. Yes, just a weird attack of lust. He didn’t have to overthink it, and he didn’t have to break his heart over this.

But his heart still felt strangely heavy when he said, “Maybe it’s a faulty contract.”

“What?”

“The Passing Through Contract. Maybe it’s broken and that’s why the forgive condition won’t work.”

“You think we messed it up when we tore it out?”

“It is full of supernatural mumbo-jumbo. Who knows.” He tried an indifferent shrug. “Or maybe we overlooked something. I’ll check the book tomorrow when I go to the library.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Good. That’s settled. I promise, we’ll get you freed.”

“Yes. Of course.” Ida blinked rapidly and turned her attention to the book.

“And I forgot the coffee.” Gabriel laughed a nervous laugh and hid in the kitchen, where he pretended the thought of Ida disappearing forever wasn’t tearing his soul apart.

One man bun later

Hidden in a forgotten corner of the library, the slim purple volume appeared untouched since Gabriel returned it months ago. He leafed through the first half to get to the page where the contract used to be. No signs anything supernatural had happened to the book because he took out the page; no ink running from the words, charred pages, or whatever curse could’ve been unleashed. And while Gabriel was happy he hadn’t destroyed public property (above what he’d already done by ripping out a page) or brought some plague upon himself, he was also slightly disappointed. In the absence of all other proof, the conclusion remained: this was about him not being able to forgive, not about a broken contract.

The page before the ripped-out contract was talking about signs of ghosts; nothing new here, he already knew them all. The page after made a sudden jump to “objects inhabited by ghosts, and the emotional states they can imbue”. Who was this damn book meant for—someone who tried to get rid of a ghost, or a ghost itself?

“Oh, Brenda, you must’ve had some weird experiences.” He skimmed to the bottom of the page, where he stopped at the page number. Sixty-eight. The page before that was sixty-one. The contract he’d ripped out only accounted for two numbers.

Which meant two more pages were missing.

Gabriel bent over the book, sliding his finger between pages to flatten them out. There—a thin remainder of the paper of the missing two pages, which someone must’ve removed with surgical precision.

What if there was more to the contract?

If those two pages were important, they were removed before Gabriel got his hands on the book. He’d notice if there was anything important after the contract when he first checked it out. He wouldn’t have missed it.

Still, that didn’t help—the pages were lost.

Or were they?

Struck with an idea, Gabriel slid the book back and headed for one of the antiquated computers. From the counter, Marge waved at him with a book and mouthed, “Love the bun.” He returned a smile and a vague just-checking-something gesture, and fired up the computer.

Or, he tried to. Anything relating to being fired up would be too much for this computer: it took ten minutes and a whole lot of beeping before Gabriel even made it to a website. But he was too jittery to leave this for later, and a part of him also wanted to keep it from Ida, in case it turned out to be nothing.

With the book having no title, Gabriel only had the author’s name and the book’s looks to go by. A lot of blind-alley searches and one page of disputable origin later, he finally found another copy. It was ridiculously overpriced, considering its used condition and the fact the owner didn’t seem to know of its supernatural abilities, but Gabriel didn’t hesitate before buying it, and even paid extra for a two-day delivery. He’d nearly clicked the order done, when he remembered another thing, and quickly typed into the request box:

Doorbell notworking. Please leave on the porch.

***

Ida took deep breaths (for the sake of focusing, not maintaining her lifeless functions) and reached toward the ripening winterberry shrub. She’d already removed some snow off it, although doing that was much easier than properly picking a branch. At least without damaging it. Vivid red berries, scattered across the snow beneath her feet, testified to her previous failed attempts.

Imagine its feel. And grab it. Just grab it.

She had to stay calm, but that was hard when she also had to concentrate energy into her fingers. Hold it… She wrapped her fingers around the branch; they passed through at first, so she withdrew to an inch away and squeezed her eyes shut for one last focusing burst.

She heard a snap, and when she opened her eyes, a piece of the shrub—a few leaves, with perfect plump berries—was floating in her hand.

I did it!

She rose, stabilized herself again as she nearly dropped the little sprig, and hurried inside to drop it into a vase on the coffee table.

Light, hurried steps pounded down the stairs.

“Gabriel! Look at what I’ve done!”

“Judging by the tone, I’ll guess it’s good, not bad,” Gabriel said, walking into the living room.

“Ta-da!” She stepped aside so he could see the vase. “Winter decoration. Isn’t it lovely?”

“You picked it yourself? Well done.” He held one hand behind his back.

“What’s going on?”

“I have something to show you.” He gestured to the couch, and she sat.

Gabriel’s face was strangely restrained, his mouth twitching. “But before I do, remember, this is still the supernatural we’re dealing with. And just like with the Passing Through contract, there could be faults… glitches…”

“What is going on?”

He pulled the slim, leather-bound volume of Brenda Bustin’s ghostly book from behind his back.

“You went back to the library to get it. But I thought you said there was nothing more there about the contract.”

“That part was true.” Gabriel cleared his throat. “However, I didn’t tell you I noticed something else in the book in the library. Missing pages right after the original contract.” He tapped the book. “This isn’t the same copy from the library. I bought it. It’s yours, if you want it.”

“That’s lovely, but what am I going to do with it?”

Gabriel opened the book to somewhere in the middle and carefully laid it out in front of her. “These are the missing pages. It’s another contract. And, Ida…” His eyes, the deep green of the winterberry leaves, sought hers.

“I think it can bring you back to life.”